The Beginning Of The End Of A Beautiful Friendship
by The-Cursed-Daughter
Summary: Kaye has lived enough times to make all the mistakes, until Kroenen came along and introduced her to a few she might have missed.............Prequel to LIKE CLOCKWORK....Kroenen/OC
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so this is the sequel to Like Clockwork I was talking about. I couldn't wait, so I started posting now. I already have A LOT of it done, but each chapter will be updated every....._

Three days?

_Yeah, more or less. This is first person, and for the love of God, REVIEW._

Seriously guys, not cool.

_**Warnings: Much swearing, so be warned.**_

_**Disclaimers: We(Kit) owns nothing but Kaye and the random villagers that pop up.**_

* * *

I woke up and groaned. _"Fuck." _

I was _awake_. And if I was awake, it could only mean that I was alive.

Yet again.

I sat up, hay crinkling underneath me, and glanced around. I was in the loft of a goddamn barn. I jumped down and stumbled, still getting used to my new—newest—set of limbs. As I walked around, testing my legs, I spotted a broken shard of a mirror and looked in it. I sighed.

I was albino—as per custom—but unlike last time, my hair was down to my waist. This lifetime I wouldn't cut my hair; I had looked like a whore when I had a bob-cut. I had on a pair of black pants and a long-sleeved shirt of the same color, and my feet were bare. I briefly tried to remember; it was always like this, I was always reincarnated somewhere in my teens, a street-rat with an attitude to match. But this time, I couldn't remember jack-shit; no name, no origins, no country of birth, nothing. Just my birthday—April 10th, 1924.

Voices started shouting outside, and I stuck my head outside the barn. It was a pretty moderate-sized town, and pretty modern. A stout old lady walked by and I called out, "Hey! Könnten Sie vielleicht sagen Sie mir, wo ich bin?" I paused. _When the hell did I learn German?_

The old crone looked me up and down. "You're in Asperg, Germany."

I considered this. Asperg was a small town in the way southwest of Germany, pretty decent—_how the hell do I know this too? _"What year is it?"

Now the woman looked at me like I was crazy, but answered anyway. "Today is April 10th, 1944."

I smirked to myself as I walked away. God must have been finding this hilarious; the day I happen to be spit out back on Earth is my birthday—and only three years after I had died previously. Let's just say that 1941 wasn't my best year. Those bombs that Nazis drop down at people from the planes—yeah, those fucking _hurt_.

I sighed again, heaving my shoulders and slightly enjoying how the muscles flexed; at least this body was in excellent shape. Being a reincarnate was a pain in the ass—my soul's neither good nor evil, so I never go to Heaven or Hell. I'm stuck being reborn and reborn and reborn forever. This was my fifteenth rebirth....or was it my sixteenth? I don't even know why I count anymore.

I paused. "So who am I this time?" I wondered out loud. In my last life I had been a nun, in hopes of finally getting to Heaven......and that totally blew up in my face—literally. So this time I would try Hell; anything was better than eternal life.

But where could I go? I couldn't very well ask, "Hey, can you tell me where a girl can go to guarantee herself a one-way ticket to Hell?" Well I _could_, but that old lady I had asked before was talking to a couple of men and glancing my way, so I suppose my chances of getting an answer without arousing suspicion were pretty slim.

As I hurriedly turned the corner, a couple of voices caught my ear.

".....the mad man....."

".....Rasputin, the evil monk....."

I stopped in front of a cart of apples, where two women and a man stood, the women whispering to themselves. "Excuse me, what were you talking about?"

The man snorted. "Ignore those two rumor mills." One of the women slapped his arm. "Hush, Arthur. Let us tell her, she has a right to know!"

"Know what?"

The women glanced around and lowered her voice. "People are saying that the crazy evil Russian monk Rasputin is living somewhere near here."

I arched an eyebrow. "Evil monk?"

"Yes. He once worked for Czar Nicholas II, and now is helping Hitler."

The man listened carefully and laughed. He patted me on the shoulder and I flinched. "Don't worry about them, they're fantasizing. There's no mad monk here or anywhere in Germany."

The second woman opened her mouth to start saying something. "You narrow-minded—"

I shrugged and walked away, leaving the three to their dispute. If there was word of an evil monk here, then I had to look no further—an evil monk was perfect. I started to reach the outskirts of the town, thick mountain forest replacing the streets. I muttered to myself as I walked. "Right, I were the house of a mad, evil, meglo-maniacal monk bent on the destruction of the world, I would...."

I paused. As I was walking I had come across a clearing, in the center of which was a lavish castle built right into the mountain. ".....I would definitely _not_ be this one." I finished.

And yet, it was perfect. A rich bureaucrat would be a perfect alias; you would be last person to suspect, and any peculiarities people noticed about you could be erased with money. I walked up to the giant double doors, almost expecting to see a door buzzer. Instead, I lifted the giant lion's head knocker—_how delightfully original,_ I noted with sarcasm—and let it drop, the echoed boom reverberating through the marble I was standing on.

A bald man in his forties opened the door, and arched an eyebrow. "Yes. Do you need something?"

I paused. What the hell was I supposed to say? "Hello, Rasputin, I heard you were an evil monk bent on world-destruction, and I was wondering if you needed any help?" He would wave me away; I had no evidence besides what some woman in the square had told me.

As I thought, a woman walked up behind Rasputin, wrapping an arm around his neck. She had short blond hair—in a bob—and an ugly greenish-yellow imp balanced on her shoulder, grinning widely at me. "Rasputin," the woman drawled in heavily accented Russian, "Who is this beggar, and what does she want?"

"Watch who you're calling a beggar, you tramp," I snapped back in the same language, "And tell your imp to shut its damn mouth before I break its fucking teeth."

The imp quickly zipped its lips and the woman's eyes widened. She stuttered in English, "You speak Russian?"

"No shit, Sherlock."

Rasputin smiled slightly as my language, and turned to whisper in the woman's ear before turning back to me. "My apologies about Ilsa," he said, "Won't you come in?"

He led me past the foyer and into the main lounge. I grimaced; I don't know what he expected me to see, but behind the glamour he had placed on the room, I saw what it really was, an ugly dungeon with walls that were rigged with traps. I stepped to the side as a stray arrow whizzed past me. Ilsa glanced at me. "Somesing vrong?"

I smirked. "You realize, if you had wanted to kill me you could have very easily shot me with the revolver you have hidden in your dress instead of dragging me into this hellhole."

Rasputin smiled. "You see? I was right, she does have the Sight." He snapped his fingers, and the room shivered, but didn't change in appearance; still the same elegant sitting room. I nodded. "A glamour over a glamour. Tricky."

The monk's grin widened, and Ilsa's face fell. He started down a hallway, saying over his shoulder, "Follow me."

"Where?"

"To meet your new partner."

* * *

**REVIEW, DAMNIT!!**

_It only takes a minute!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, so I meant to post yesterday, but I didn't have time....I was tie-dying shirts. Here you go........._

_What am I forgetting......oh right, **REVIEW DAMNIT**!!!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

As Rasputin led me out to.....wherever the hell he was leading me, I was beginning to think that the man had overkilled the bureaucrat scheme. There were rooms inside rooms that led to hallways that wound all the way around the mansion and down several flights of stairs before leading back into the main foyer we just came out of. My head was beginning to reel when he opened a final door that led out into the back courtyard.

There was a man in the middle of the courtyard, practicing with katar-like daggers that appeared to come out of his sleeves as Mozart played in the background. He wore a skintight black suit with some metal embellishments, but what was most intriguing was the shiny black mask he wore over his face. I grinned; it kind of made him look like a frog.

The man stopped as he saw us. He nodded towards me, and muttered, "Vone moment." In that split second, his daggers grew even longer and he lunged at me. I jumped to the side and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. "That wasn't very nice," I hissed in his ear.

The man pulled out of my grip and swung his daggers at me; I ducked and flipped back to where his weapons lay, grabbing two at random. As he caught up and swung at me again, I parried with one of the weapons. I glanced down at them; I had gotten lucky—a pair of matching tonfas.

I barely had time to react as he attacked me again, and I swung out with my foot. We both paused; he had his dagger at my neck, and I had my leg around his—I moved, he slit my throat; he moved, I broke his neck. "Draw," the man panted from behind his mask.

Rasputin laughed, and motioned for the man to let me go. "Kroenen, you mistook my intentions. I didn't want you to kill her; I wanted to introduce her to you." I paused; _Kroenen_, I had heard the name before. So _he_ was Hitler's top hit-man.

The man seemed dubious, but stepped back, and I unhooked my leg from his shoulders. From behind the mask, I could tell he was arching his eyebrows. "If zis is some sort of joke, zen I'm forced to inform you that I have no vant of her."

I knew _exactly_ what he meant by that, and my eyes narrowed. "You perverted asshole, how dare you—"

Rasputin cut me off. "That wasn't what I meant. In fact, she's actually your new partner."

"I have no need for a partner. She is a voman—not even zat, a _girl_—and more importantly—"

In retrospect, I really shouldn't have done it, but I couldn't help myself. As he was talking, I dropped into a crouch and swung my leg at his feet; knocking him onto his back. I jumped onto him and pinned his arms with my knees. I grinned and pressed a tonfa into his throat. "It seems this _girl_ just beat your ass." I turned to Rasputin, my eyebrows arched. "And _this_ is Hitler's top assassin?

Ilsa laughed, and turned to Rasputin. After a few more words, they left. I stood up, helping the man up. He paused awkwardly. "My apologies for doubting you. I had no idea zat you vere......vell, I had no idea."

I nodded, and sat down, polishing the scuff marks off the tonfas. They were beautiful; flat, sharp, metal shaft—a blade—with leather-bound grips on the handholds. Kroenen watched me examine them. "How long have you been using tonfas?" he asked.

I glanced up. "Never."

He snorted. "You're joking, surely."

"Nope. Never used them before today—in fact, I've never been in a fight before today." It technically was the truth, in a twisted kind of way—after all, today was my first day in this life.

Kroenen studied me again, and then asked, "Vhat do I call you?" I shrugged. "Whatever the hell you want."

"A _name_, perhaps?"

"Don't have one."

Kroenen didn't look like he believed me, but I didn't quite care. I wasn't lying—which technically wasn't a good start if I wanted to get to Hell—but today had been a pretty good day; I hadn't died yet, got a job working for an evil monk....things were pretty okay.

I paused. _Hey_, wait a moment.........I turned to Kroenen. "Kaye."

"Beg pardon?"

"You can call me Kaye."

"Didn't you just say zat you didn't have a name? You just sought vone up, didn't you?"

"So?"

"How am I supposed to work with someone who doesn't even tell me zeir name?"

I arched an eyebrow. "Says the man who wears a mask."

Kroenen sighed and shook his head, but I could tell that he was smiling. "I sink zis is ze beginning of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

It had been several days since I'd starting working for Rasputin, he and Ilsa marched in on one of my and Kroenen's training session. The two of us put away the weapons we were sparring with—a couple of staffs—and waited.

Rasputin cleared his throat. "As Kroenen knows, Hitler is part of the Thule Society. They have heard that I have recently acquired a new.....accomplice, and they demand they meet him."

I arched an eyebrow. _"Him?"_ Then I realized. "They don't know I'm a female, do they?"

Ilsa shrugged. "Ve can't give avay all ze surprises at once."

Rasputin led the way to a couple of buggies that were waiting in the front driveway. Rasputin and Ilsa climbed into one, and I eyed the other with disdain. There was no way in _hell_ I was getting in _that_. Kroenen seemed to have the same thought as I did, so he gestured to the back of Rasputin's car. He and I clambered onto the back as the car started, enjoying our view of the town. Suddenly, the buggy hit a pothole, jarring me off the back. Kroenen's hand shot out and he pulled me on his lap. "Be careful."

I nodded, swearing at the roads. Kroenen chuckled, his voice hissing through his mask.

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity on the hellish road, the buggy pulled up to a Victorian-style manor. Rasputin lifted the lion head knocker—what the hell was it with these things?—and let it drop. The echoes resonated across the lawn, until a butler opened the door. He looked mildly surprised to see a woman—besides Ilsa—but let us in and led us down the hallway without a word. We reached a pair of enormous oak double-doors, which the butler opened silently.

We stepped in, and found ourselves in a giant study. On slightly elevated platforms, a dozen men sat—Hitler wasn't here today, I noted. One of them, older than the rest, glanced at us down his nose. "Ah Rasputin," he rasped in a—very poor, if you asked my opinion—attempt to sound regal, "So you've brought us the one you were telling us about. Where is he?"

Rasputin gestured to me and I stepped forward. The Society gaped. "But that's a woman!"

I sighed. "Why does everyone keep reminding me as though I'll forget?" I gestured to my body. "Yes, I'm a woman; long hair, breasts, the whole shebang. Anything else you'd like to add?" Ilsa opened her mouth to snap at me and apologize to the Society, but I cut her off. "And don't _you_ say a word. If these old bags don't like me, it won't be any skin off my bones."

The German woman gaped at me, and Kroenen's shoulders began shaking—I could see he was laughing. And he wasn't the only one, the rest of the Thule Society started. I waited patiently for them to stop, tapping my foot. The old man smiled. "Well, she has spunk, but what about the rest? Did you lie to us, Rasputin?"

The monk shook his head. "True, every last word. Test her if you like."

The man nodded and Rasputin, Ilsa and Kroenen stepped back into the doorway. Suddenly I realized why the tables were above the rest of the floor—it was an ampitheater. A thin hissing echoed, and the old man's smile widened. "Right now, my dear, you are surrounded by foes, invisible and invincible. Our test for you: survive."

I grinned and cracked the bones in my neck. I blinked once and _bingo_, there they were; mechanical lions—what the _hell_ was it with _lions_—infused with a mix of science and magic. Invisible to the naked—no, to the _normal_—eye, but not to me. I swung my leg, smashing through the first one's shoulder, then dropping into a roll and kicking the other one in the face. In several seconds all four of the lions were incapacitated and flickered into normal view. The old man gaped.

Rasputin turned to face the Thule Society, leering triumphantly. "What did I tell you? Not only was she able to see your lions, she was able to break through the dozens of protection spells you wove around them."

He let the Society murmur amongst themselves for a moment and then continued, "Which is why I ask you to allow her to be a balance for the Ragna Rok project."

I arched an eyebrow. "Ragna Rok? What the hell is that?"

"Ragna Rok is a project that Hitler had asked me to see through," Rasputin explained, "I will summon the Ogdru Jahad to create a new Eden. However, while I summon them, I must be anchored to this world, otherwise I will be sucked into the other world, and the plan will fail."

"So you need me to be your 'anchor', to keep you grounded in this reality," I finished.

The monk nodded. "Exactly. We were thinking of using a normal person, but they, of course, would die. This way, it's much easier, and we won't be wasting any soldiers."

The old man of the Thule Society looked at me. "Will you do it?"

I shrugged. "What have I got to loose?"

* * *

_REVIEW!!_

_Kit_


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, so since I have a few more stories to work on, it'll be longer between posts._

And REVIEW DAMNIT!! It's not funny!

_Exactly._

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: I own nothing but Kaye and the plot. Oh, and there's the usual warnings.**_

* * *

I wandered aimlessly around the estate, searching for Kroenen. He wasn't at our training session, and I was beginning to wonder. And besides, I needed to know the layout of this place if I ever hoped to survive in its maze.

What sounded like music reached my ears, and I turned. Ilsa most certainly wouldn't listen to music—she had no class—and I knew for a fact Rasputin was two stories down. I tried the knob of the room the music was coming from; it was locked. Fishing a small penknife from my pocket, I twirled it in the lock until I heard the tumblers click.

I carefully opened the door—I had already discovered fourteen seemingly empty rooms that were laden with traps—and peered in. It was a bedroom, elegantly yet simply decorated; a mass of red and black fabric and dark mahogany wood. On a far table, a phonogram sat, and next to it was a small clockwork nightingale, singing what sounded like Mozart's _Symphony 29_. Kroenen sat off to the side in an armchair, tapping his fingers in time with the music.

I sat in the armchair opposite him and crossed my legs, waiting for the music to stop. When it did, he looked up and flinched; apparently he didn't realize that I was there. "Greetings. Vhy are you here?"

"I've been looking for you," I told him, "You missed practice—not that we really need any." I nodded to the bird. "It's beautiful."

Kroenen seemed pleased, though one couldn't tell from behind his mask. "I made it myself."

"That's _Symphony 29_, by Mozart, right?"

"_Impressive_. Most people vouldn't know zat."

I scoffed. "Well, it's not like we're living a couple of virtuosos. Rasputin's too busy raving like the madman he is, and Ilsa has no class to begin with."

The assassin chuckled. "My sentiments exactly." He stood, leading me out of the room and down the hall. "Should ve begin practice, considering I missed ze first vone?"

I shrugged and opened the door that led to the back courtyard. "Why not?"

Without warning, he swung at my head, and I ducked instinctively, rolling off to the side. Neither of us had our weapons, so it was a regular old fistfight. After exchanging a few more blows, I took several steps backwards and spun, my foot connecting with Kroenen's mask, sending it flying into the corner.

I paused as Kroenen recovered from my hit, standing up and shaking his head. My eyes widened in surprise—Kroenen had blonde hair, messy in an almost intentional way, and piercing blue eyes. "You must have looked like an angel when you were younger," I thought out loud. In fact, he still did.

Kroenen shrugged and sat down, ignoring his mask. "I used to. Zat is probably vone of ze only sings zat didn't change."

"How so?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I vas a _wunderkind_—a child prodigy in music. I sang opera around ze continent until puberty change my voice."

I frowned. "Must have been a bitch."

He arched an eyebrow. "You say zat as sough you never vent srough puberty."

_Shit!_ I mentally berated myself for letting my tongue slip—of course I had never experienced puberty, I was 'born' as a twenty-year-old! "Well, mine wasn't so bad."

"How old _are_ you?"

"Twenty."

Kroenen laughed. "Tventy! You barely came out of puberty; you're most likely still groving!"

I glared at him halfheartedly. "I'm five foot seven! How much more do you want me to grow?! And besides, you act like puberty was ages ago for you! When were you born?"

"July 17th, 1897."

I thought for a moment. "And by normal chronology, that would make you forty-seven."

"Ja."

"But according to the chronology of the immortality Rasputin gave you, you're how old?"

Kroenen counted in his head, his features paused in thought. "Sirty," he said finally.

I smiled. "Thirty? That's not all that bad."

Suddenly a maid walked out, holding a phone. She spotted the two of us and began stuttering, "Ph-ph-phone c-call for you, M-Master K-K-Kroenen."

Kroenen rolled his eyes and stood, picking up the phone and muttering rapidly into the speaker. I stood as well, stretching, and grabbed Kroenen's mask from the ground. As I walked over to him, I heard the last bit of the conversation before he hung up.

".......yes, I vill be zere in a moment."

I cocked my head in curiosity, and he sighed, taking the offered mask and putting it on. When he spoke, his voice was warped by the metal. "Hitler needs to speak to me. I have to go to the city." He paused. "Vould you like to come vith me?"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

* * *

REVIEW!!!

_Kit &_ Violet


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay, so this one is a little longer than it's supposed to be, and Kaye doesn't meet Hitler in this chapter (There would have been too much to rewrite). Please review!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

_Oh yeah, a small part of this is from Kroenen's POV. It'll be easy to tell._

* * *

After an hour on yet another hellish road, the countryside and forest abandoned ground for the city. To my surprise we drove past that too, until we reached a military camp; the sign depicting an 'SS'—we were in the camp of the _Schutzstaffel_, Hitler's personal police force.

The taxi let us out and sped off, rushing to be away from the camp. Kroenen adjusted his hat and trench coat—black, just like the rest of his clothes—and headed into the camp at a brisk pace. As he walked, soldiers shut up, watching him with a fearful—more or less _terrified_—reverence. Kroenen paused for a moment and glanced at me, but I shook my head; I had already met Hitler once, the last thing I need was the coward recognizing me as _'that one Belgian nun that spit in my face'_. As Kroenen walked into the tent, I sat down on a crate, checking my tonfas—Kroenen had given them to me, after how well I used them the first time we fought.

The men swarmed around me, catcalling and wolf-whistling. One of them, a corporal—I could tell by his pins, or actually by his _lack_ of them— sat down on the crate. "Wow, Kroenen's got himself a looker!"

I didn't look up, but kept polishing my tonfa. "You weren't this rowdy when Kroenen was out here."

The man paled. "He's fucking scary—he's Hitler's top assassin, you know. He's only a Lieutenant Colonel, but even the higher-ups are terrified of him. What are you doing with him?"

"I work with him."

The men gaped at me. "You _willingly_ work with _him_? Kroenen's a freak; he never takes off that mask, and always walks around in that coat and hat and uniform! He doesn't talk to anyone either......."

Suddenly I grinned, and he trailed off. "Lieutenant Colonel Kroenen is right behind me, isn't he?"

"A-_hem_."

Kroenen waited patiently until the corporal had stood up, and then cocked his head to the side. "May I have a vord vith you, Corporal?" He led the poor soul behind a stack of crates and came out three seconds later....without the corporal. As he began to walk away, I headed after him. "Well, that was fast."

Kroenen glanced at the rest of the soldiers, who were approaching the crates, nervous as to what they would find. "I said I vas going to have _a_ vord vith him."

I smirked. "Let me guess, that word was 'Goodbye'."

He looked at me in mock surprise. "How did you know?"

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and glanced around for the cabby. I shook my head. "He's long gone. C'mon, let's walk."

* * *

By the time we had reached the small town I woke up in, I was honestly regretting it. Not that I was tired; my body can withstand anything, but I was sick of people staring at us. We were passing through a small street when someone called out, "Young lady! Come here a moment!"

I turned as much was possible with Kroenen's arm around my shoulders. "Who, me?"

The woman nodded, and I recognized her as the woman who had first told me about Rasputin. I ducked under Kroenen's arm, my shoulders suddenly feeling cold, and walked over. "Yes?"

The woman glanced behind me at Kroenen. "Do you know who that man is? That's Karl Ruphrect Kroenen—I recognized him by that mask—he's a madman!"

I mentally snorted; wasn't everyone in this region? "I know."

She looked at me like I was mad myself, but continued, "Be careful, I've heard that he works with Rasputin!"

I grinned and turned around, heading back to Kroenen. "You have no idea."

* * *

I heard the door open onto the roof, and Kroenen sat down next to me. He wasn't wearing his mask—he never did around me—and wrapped his arms around his knees, much like I was sitting. "Vhat are you doing out here? It must be cold."

As he said that, I shivered; I was only in a short-sleeved black shirt and capris, and it was already well into fall. Six months had passed since I had been working for Rasputin; most of it spent training with Kroenen, and meditating and conducting magical tests with Rasputin to increase my efficiency as an anchor. I had already gone above and beyond his expectations, so the tests stopped. Now whenever I wasn't training with Kroenen, I was getting into spats with Ilsa—all of which I win—and reading.

I shrugged. "I'm fine. What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you. You missed practice."

"Sorry."

We sat like that for a little while, and then he asked. "Vhat are you?"

I jumped. "What do you mean?"

Kroenen looked at me like I was an idiot. "I know you are anysing but human. Even Ilsa hasn't been able to vithstand Rasputin's tests, and she has his energy. Vhat are you?"

I paused—there was a lot riding on this. I could tell him what I was, I trusted him, but what if it got out? I'm enough of a freak already. I sighed. "I'm a reincarnate," I told him, "I never die, because my soul is neither good nor bad. I'm stuck reborn again and again."

To my surprise, Kroenen nodded. "Not exactly vhat I vas speculating, but close enough."

I arched my eyebrows in surprise—how obvious had I been? "What speculations?"

He blushed, the red standing out on his pale face. "Somesing along ze lines of super powers. You know, allergic to kryptonite, owning a green glowing ring?"

My jaw dropped in surprise. "Superman? The Green Lantern? Comic book superheros? Are you serious?"

His blush deepened. "I vas also sinking zat you might be a vampire."

"Nope."

Kroenen sighed. "Sank you."

"For what?"

"For trusting me. I could tell zat you vere considering lying."

Here I paused again; did I dare tell him more? "I always trusted you. It's hard not to."

Kroenen blinked in surprise. "Vhat do you mean?"

I blushed suddenly, and stood, turning briskly. "N-Nothing." Did I just _stutter_? What the bloody hell was wrong with me? As I turned back to the door, I saw Kroenen reach for me out of the corner of my eye, but then he grimaced and put his hand back down. He looked....._disappointed_.

* * *

I sighed and looked out my window, watching the snow fall gently, vaguely hearing my Wagner playing in the background. It was already November, and Ragna Rok grew ever closer. I sighed again; apparently I wasn't the only one who thought so. Rasputin had started conducting more and more tests with Kaye again, and Ilsa—the obnoxious bitch—was becoming jealous that her beloved madman was spending so much time with the albino.

I sat up. Speaking of whom, where _was_ Kaye? I hadn't seen her since yesterday afternoon on the roof. She had skipped practice—again—and no one had seen anything of her, not even the servants.

Shrugging, I returned my gaze to the window and paled. Far away, at least a mile, Kaye skated on the ice. I stood up quickly and grabbed my coat—the fool! I raced past Ilsa, outside, and across the landscape towards Kaye. As I got closer, I realized she had taken her tonfas and tied them to her combat boots as skates. "Kaye!" I shouted.

The girl skidded to a stop and glided over to me. "Greetings, Kroenen." Suddenly she frowned, noticing the expression on my face. "Is something wrong?"

I panted, catching my breath. "Yes! You should not be out here. Zere is an entity below ze ice, it vill eat you!"

Suddenly, Kaye grinned, and gestured to a giant icy-blue heap I hadn't noticed before. "Oh, you mean _that_ entity?"

I paled considerably. "Zat.......zat is ze child."

Kaye's grin disappeared. "That fucking enormous thing is the _child_? Then where the hell are the parents....." She trailed off and glanced down. The albino swore vividly and turned, skating to the opposite side of the lake at an inhuman speed. At first I didn't realize what she was doing, and then I saw it; the mother was swimming below her, aiming to cut her off.

The mother shot up out of the water, dislodging a giant piece of ice right directly in Kaye's path. I'll admit, my heart froze in my throat, but the girl skated faster, shooting off the piece of ice, flying above the demon. She drew one of my katar daggers—I had been wondering where they went—from her belt and twisted in midair, slicing off the entity's head in one clean cut. My shoulders dropped in relief, and then I realized; the demon had crashed through the ice in front of Kaye.....leaving the girl nowhere to land. Kaye seemed to figure this out as well, and spread-eagled; plunging into the freezing water.

I broke out in a run; by spreading out; Kaye hadn't sunk as deep into the water, but the shock would have gotten to her by now. I skidded to a stop near the place she had fallen in and jumped. Unfortunately, I had forgotten how _cold_ the water would be, and I froze, unable to move. My lungs screamed for air, and I began to black out, but a pair of hands hooked under my shoulders and pulled me out. I spluttered as I spit out water and sat up.

Kaye sat next to me, her face sick with worry. "What the hell were you thinking?!" she demanded, "Don't you look before you jump?"

"V-v-vhat d-do you m-m-mean?" I asked through chattering teeth.

"I had climbed out of the water as you jumped in!" Kaye glared at me as she helped me up. "Do you know how badly you terrified me?"

I shook my head, and she groaned in frustration before hauling me off and setting off at a run, dragging me behind her. In seconds we burst into the main room, Kaye collapsing in front of the fire, so close that the flames licked at her skin. I sat down as well, just not so close. Kaye sighed in contentment as she stretched. Jokingly, I pushed her nearer to the flames, and she glared at me. "I'm fireproof, by the way."

I pretended to snap my fingers in disappointment, and she laughed. "What were you doing out there anyway?" she asked me.

"I vas supposed to be saving you."

She laughed again. "Didn't that plan fuck up?"

"Quite."

It was silent for a moment, and then she looked away. "Thanks."

* * *

I sat in Kroenen's room, avidly cursing Ilsa to all two hundred and forty-three levels of Hell, so I naturally didn't hear Kroenen walk in. He leaned over me. "Vhat are you doing?"

I leaned back in the comfy chair and gestured at the broken mechanical nightingale, several gears lying on the desk and some springs were sticking out where they shouldn't. I could see Kroenen's face twist in rage. "Ilsa," I explained, "The stupid bitch stomped in here and knocked it over. I'm trying to fix it."

He shook his head. "I vouldn't. No vone but me knows how zat bird operates, and—"

Kroenen trailed off as I put down my screwdriver and twisted a knob, watching the bird sing. He and I listened for a moment and then said in unison, "That B is too sharp." I tinkered with one of the gears, smiling in satisfaction as it played perfectly. Kroenen looked at me in surprise. "I'll admit, I'm amazed. How long have you been in here vith zis bird?"

"Around four hours."

Now he looked smug. "It took you four hours to figure out how ze bird vorks?"

"_No_, it took me three hours and forty-five minutes to pick up all the pieces that whore scattered. It took me fifteen minutes to fix it."

The smug look was wiped off his face, and he grumbled something in German. Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me up. "Vell zen, I must find some vay to repay you. How about a distraction?"

I stood and stretched, wincing as my muscles uncoiled themselves. I grinned. "What did you have in mind?"

A few minutes later, Kroenen was following me down to the kitchen. As we walked through the giant wooden door, Cook spotted us. She was a stout, matronly, old woman who almost never smiled. "Ah, Miss Kaye," she said, "Have you finally decided to try my cooking?"

This was an ongoing issue—I'm almost never hungry, so the only thing I've been eating for the past six months were apples, grapes and rasberries. Cook had taken this as a fact that I didn't like the way she cooked, and continually teased me about it.

I shook my head. "Nah. I was actually wondering if you had seen the stupid bitch or the madman around lately."

Cook scowled at me in disapproval. "I haven't seen _Master Gregor_ or _Missus Ilsa_ at all today. Why, did you need them?"

I shook my head again, and Kroenen gave me a confused glance. I winked and then turned to Cook. "I just need to borrow a bottle of vinegar." The woman seemed puzzled by my request, but pointed a cabinet on the far side of the kitchen. I grabbed it, thanked her, and steered Kroenen out into the hallway. The Nazi glanced at the vinegar. "Vhat are ve supposed to do vith zat?"

"Just trust me." I spun on my heel and ran towards Rasputin's room. I sent out a thread of my power, searching to see if there was anyone behind the door. Finding no one, I turned to Kroenen. "How do you open the door?"

He shook his head. "You don't. Zere is no lock to pick, or hinges to grease. It opens to his magic only."

I grinned and pressed my hand into the wood, feeling it sink through the layers of spells. The magic resisted for a moment, but then the door disappeared. I ducked in and ran into Rasputin's lab, searching through his bottles. Kroenen watched me with misgiving, and kept an eye on the door. Finally, I grabbed several bottles I needed, and ran back out. Kroenen watched me mix the chemicals with the vinegar, and then just shrugged. "I von't even ask."

* * *

After one more stop, Kroenen and I sat in my room—a room completely decorated in maroons, greens and blacks—and waited. As he and I counted down on the second hand of my grandfather clock, Ilsa's screaming as she stepped out of the shower and Rasputin's shouting of "Where the hell are my chemicals?!" echoed off the mansion walls.

* * *

_A special surprise to whoever can guess what Kaye did to Ilsa!_

**REVIEW!**

_Kit & _Violet


	5. Chapter 5

_Well, thank you to the ONE OF YOU that's reviewing, I'm really glad you're liking it. Vi's not feeling good, so I'm posting alone! Now the story gets twisted, so pay attention!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual.**_

* * *

"Vhat am I to you?"

Kroenen had asked me that this morning, and I feel like an idiot as to what I did.

I _ran_.

_Me_—Kaye, the basically invincible smartass albino—I fucking turned tail and _ran_ like a coward. Oh, and that's not the end of it—I avoided him for the rest of the morning, skipping practice, all that bullshit. Which is why when Rasputin announced that Hitler needed to see us again, my heart nearly dropped into my stomach and shriveled up in the acid.

In retrospect, I wish it _had_, so I would be able to just answer Kroenen simply, to lie and tell him off. But _no_, fate enjoys my pain _far_ too much to give me a moment's peace.

So now Rasputin, Kroenen and I were waiting for the taxis to show up. I glanced around expectantly for the bitch, and not finding her, I asked, "Isn't the bit—I mean, isn't _Ilsa_ coming?"

Rasputin shook his head. "Unfortunately no. Her hair is still bright green from yesterday." He paused and stroked his goatee for the fortieth time. "I still don't understand how though. It's as though someone slipped something into her shampoo."

I stifled a laugh behind my hand, just as the cabbies showed up, and then my eyes widened. There were only _two_ cars. Not _one_, in which the three of us would be riding; thereby giving me and Kroenen no privacy, and not _three_; in which case I wouldn't have to see him at all, but _two_.

There were _two fucking cars_. And I knew what that meant.

I turned to Rasputin. "You know, I think I'll walk."

The ex-monk looked at me like I was insane, and shook his head. "Nonsense. We want to be there in ten minutes, not two hours."

I really wanted to tell him that I could outrun a fighter jet on one of my worst days, but decided against it. Sighing, I climbed into the back of the cab, Kroenen sliding in next to me. The cabby glanced at us and I shot him a glare. As the car trundled down the road, Kroenen didn't look at me, but asked, "You realize, I vas still vaiting for an answer to my question."

"You gave a question I can't answer."

I could see the cabby glancing at us in the rearview mirror, and I narrowed my eyes and made a motion of slitting his throat. The man's eyes were quickly averted. Kroenen, completely oblivious to this, asked again, "I'll simplify it, zen. _Do_ I mean anysing to you?"

I remained silent, and he sighed. "You know zis only has two different answers."

The cabby's eyes kept wandering back to us, and I cleared my throat. "Hey asshole, if you want to keep your eyes in their sockets, I'd suggest keeping your eyes on the road." Turning back to Kroenen, I swallowed thickly. "Let's just say both."

An eerie silence fell, and those remaining seven minutes were the longest I had ever spent in all of my lives.

* * *

As soon as we arrived, Rasputin headed directly for Hitler's tent, and then came out several seconds later, a bemused look on his face. Obviously, the Fuhrer wasn't in his tent.

"Greetings, Rasputin." A voice with a very thick German accent sounded behind me and I turned, face to face with Hitler. He stared at me, expecting me to bow or nod or salute or something, but I just glared back. Finally, he cocked his head to the side. "Do I know you from somevhere?"

I rolled my eyes; just fucking perfect, now Hitler was going to recognize me. "Do I remind you of someone?" I asked.

He nodded. "Zis vone Belgian nun. She spat in my face vonce, and I ordered her death. I vonder vhat happened to her." He paused, and then snapped his fingers, frowning. "Oh yes—she escaped."

Kroenen looked at me sharply, and I nodded almost imperceptibly. For the first time, Hitler seemed to notice Kroenen. "_Guten Tag_, Kroenen."

Kroenen started to respond, but shouting and yelling cut him off. A SS soldier—high-ranking, it appeared—stomped up to Hitler and threw his cap on the ground. "I can't do zis. Zey are impossible!"

Hitler sighed and glanced at a small group of women in SS uniforms. "_Frauen._ He is right, zey have been impossible to train lately." He glanced at me and Kroenen. "Vould you mind?"

The assassin groaned and trudged off; unable to satisfy my curiosity, I darted ahead. A dozen or so women stood and chattered amongst themselves, but shut up and saluted the second Kroenen stepped into their little clearing. I walked up to them, clicking my tongue in distaste. "What the hell do we have here?" I mused to myself, looking over the women, "A baker's bunch of pseudo-men." I shrugged. "Well, how much sense can you expect a woman to have if she's taught by such tasteless people like _him_?" I glanced back at Hitler meaningfully.

One of the women started to laugh, and Kroenen shot her a glare from behind his mask. I slapped his arm and walked to the women. "Of course you're impossible to train, because no one can train a woman like a man and expect that to work. What part of the SS are you working in?"

"Undercover duty, sir—ma'am!" one of the women barked.

I clicked my tongue again. "First off, my name isn't Ma'am. It's Kaye. And second off, this is fucking great. I have half a mind to smack Hitler upside his greasy, squinty-eyed head for this."

"Why's that, ma—I mean, Kaye?"

"Because," I told the woman who asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm, "_No one_ would _ever_ suspect you when you walk around looking like you have fake eyes and a broomstick for a spine." I cocked the woman's hat to the side, unbuttoned the first few buttons of her shirt, and made her take off her jacket. I continued down the line of women, finally standing back to survey my handiwork. "There we go, perfect. _Now_ we look like women."

I put my hands on my hips and looked at the women. "Now then, do any of you actually know how to seduce a man?" No one answered, and I ticked off an imaginary check-mark in the air with my finger. "Yet another slap for our grand, brainless Fuhrer."

I gestured to Kroenen. "Men love compliments—yes, believe it or not, there's a rather attractive man behind that mask. They love being complimented on their....well, their _manliness_." I stepped over to Kroenen. "And what's not to compliment? For example, Kroenen has toned shoulders," I ran my hands down the respective body parts, continuing down his arms, "Strong arms, a flat stomach....."

I paused. What was going? I was getting carried away, and I was _liking_ it. I quickly pulled myself together and snapped, "And once they lower their guard," I swung my foot, buckling Kroenen's knees and slamming him to the ground, pinning him, "You can kill them." I grinned up at the women, "Or in your cases, you can report your infidel, or Jew, or traitor to the crown, or whatever."

The group nodded and clapped, and I got up briskly and walked off. What the hell was _wrong_ with me? I completely lost myself just a moment ago. And the funny thing is, I knew exactly what was wrong with me, but I didn't want to admit it.

I took a deep breath and told myself firmly, "I'm in love with Kroenen."

* * *

I quickly stepped into the kitchen, flattening myself against the wall as Kroenen walked by. Yes, I was running again, but I couldn't help myself—I just couldn't think. I loved Kroenen—I'm willing to admit that—but we were supposed to stay professional, weren't we? And if it was one-sided? I don't mean to sound like a pathetic teenage girl afraid of rejection, but that's how it comes out. Though, Kroenen wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't feel the same way, would he?

You see? This is _exactly_ why I needed to hide from him.

Cook arched an eyebrow at me. "Something wrong, Miss Kaye?" She smiled, "Or have you decided to finally try my cooking?"

I glanced out into the hallway, but Kroenen was talking with Rasputin, and it looked like they didn't plan on leaving that hallway for a while. If I stayed in here, Cook would get suspicious. Unless......

I nodded. "Sure. I'm starved."

Cook brightened and began to bustle around the kitchen. "You're just in luck; I've created a very interesting new type of sandwich." She winked, "No need to stuff you with a three-course meal on the first try." The woman turned and was about to walk into the hallway where Kroenen and Rasputin were _still_ standing, talking to herself, "I'll set a place in the main dining room...."

"Wait!" I shouted, and then slapped a hand over my mouth. "What I mean is, I'd rather eat in here," I continued in a much quieter voice, taking a quick glance into the hall to see if anyone had heard me, "It's warmer in here."

Cook gave me a strange look, but shrugged, grabbed a plate, and plopped a sandwich onto it. I'll admit, it looked really good, and I hadn't eaten for the past few days—too anxious, and I didn't feeling like harking up my fruit a few minutes after I'd eaten it—so my stomach growled loudly as my eyes spotted the food. I perched on the windowsill of the outside wall—the entire face of which, except for three feet on the bottom, was covered in ornate windows—and bit into the sandwich.

"Do you know vhere Kaye is? I have been looking for her ze entire day."

The lump of food caught in my throat and I glanced at the stove, where Kroenen was talking to Cook. Luckily, I was sitting in a tiny alcove, hidden from the stove. Hopefully Cook didn't seem me walk up to there.....

"Oh, Miss Kaye? She's back in the alcove—_eating my food_, can you believe it?"

Shit.

Shit. Shit. _Shit._

Kroenen started to head over to me, and I knew I was trapped if I didn't move. It was already too late to for me to get to the door, so that only left......the windows. A quick glance told me they were unlocked, so if I timed it right, I could launch myself through one of them and open it instead of breaking it.

Grabbing my sandwich and shoving the plate on a nearby counter, I ran along the windowsill, letting my shoulder brush along the glass. Finding my open latch, I grabbed the ledge above me and swung into the window, shooting through. The window slammed open without breaking; it was a perfect shot....except for one small thing.

I forgot I was seven stories up.

"_Oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"_

* * *

Ten seconds later, I slammed into the thick layer of snow, my still intact sandwich plowing an equally deep hole next to my head. I sat up, and cradling my head in my hands, waiting for my vision—which was still three stories up and counting—to catch up to my head. I stood shakily and headed back into the house, catching a glimpse of an awestruck Cook and a disbelieving Kroenen looking at me from seven stories above my head.

Ilsa was waiting for me as I headed up to my room—hands on her hips, bright green hair in a mess, and eyes blazing; the whole shebang—and snapped, "What ze hell was zat?"

I glared at her—I was not in the mood. "What was what?"

"Zat drop! It sounded like you vere running from ze demons of Hell!"

"I might as well have been," I snorted. Ilsa arched a green eyebrow at me; I arched one back, daring her to try to comment. Finally, she huffed and turned, stalking away in what she thought was a regal way. It wasn't.

After a quick glance in my mirror to make sure everything was still intact, I flopped back onto my bed. Then thinking better of it, I climbed onto the dark green canopy hanging above my bed, and stretched out. A few minutes after I had gotten comfortable, I heard my door open. Booted feet strode over to my bed and I could hear the bed groan as someone climbed into it.

Something sharp jabbed me in the back. "Kaye, if you don't come down here zis instant, I vill run you srough."

I said nothing and didn't budge an inch. Kroenen sighed below me and I could hear his tonfa rip into the fabric. I didn't realize however, that he was cutting a square around me, until I had already landed on him. I moved to get up, but his arms closed around my chest and waist like vices, and I was trapped.

Kroenen sighed again, and I could tell he wasn't wearing his mask from the puff of warm air that grazed my ear. "Kaye, how long vill you continue to torture me?"

"_Me_, torture _you_? I think it's the other way around. How am I torturing you?"

He laughed and kissed the arch of my ear. "Vell, let's see. You've been avoiding me, you had me all vorked up and zen ridiculed me vhen ve vere at ze Fuhrer's camp, and you just jumped out of a seven story vindow."

I struggled to sit up, but his arms tightened. "You started this! You and your goddamn question!"

"Speaking of vhich, you still haven't told me your answer." He began to run his lips down my neck, and I shivered. "Because," I told him, "You've muddled up my head. I can't think—especially right now, when you're doing that!"

Kroenen laughed again, and I took a deep breath. "I'm leaving."

His laughter was cut off abruptly, and I could feel his arms relax. I broke out of his grip and stood up. He sat up on my bed, his eyes wide with surprise. "Vhat? Vhy?"

"Because, Kroenen, I'm so goddamn confused! I can't think straight. I want to say yes; that you do mean something—everything—to me, but I can't! We're supposed to stay professional, and I can't! So I'm leaving tonight."

* * *

I should have known something was wrong when Kroenen, Ilsa and Rasputin were waiting for me by the back door. I had expected the assassin to try to stop me, but not the other two. Ilsa smirked at me. "Going somevhere?"

"Yeah, I'm leaving, Sherlock," I snapped back, "What the hell does it look like?"

The woman didn't say anything, so I shoved past her and headed for the door. Rasputin chuckled behind me, and I rolled my eyes. But then I froze—for two reasons. One, I couldn't move; and two, Rasputin held something very familiar in his hand.

My hand flew to my throat and I called up my power—a little, glowing, white orb that was hidden in my chest—and whirled around when I realized it wasn't there. Rasputin chuckled again and held it up. "A reincarnate, how fortunate. I'm glad I was told what you were before you disappeared. Such power, and I was wondering you how managed to do so well during my experiments."

My eyes widened in surprise and I whirled on Kroenen. "You bastard! You told him!" Kroenen said nothing, and I could tell he wasn't looking at me from behind his mask. Suddenly, my vision went white, and my body started shaking. Oh shit, it was starting. Along with being a reincarnate, I had an enormous amount of power. I usually don't use it—no need, I'm well off without it—but when I get really angry, I just kind of......explode.

The fog in my head cleared, and I saw the aftermath. Kroenen had been smashed into the wall, millimeters from having his throat slit open by a stray piece of glass. There was blood on the tip of the glass, and I realized that it had slit a wound down the side of his throat. Rasputin and Ilsa had been shoved aside as well, the bitch groaning as her leg was twisted at an odd angle. Smirking I surveyed my handiwork and turned around, heading for the door.

"Wait!" Rasputin shouted after me, "You do know that now you can't die! I own your life!"

I picked up my satchel and fixed my tonfas on my arms, opening the door. I turned and smiled pleasantly. "Watch me not giving a damn."

And then I walked out.

* * *

_REVIEW!_

_Kit _


	6. Chapter 6

_Now the story's getting interesting.....Kroenen gets jealous and gets duped, the SS gets kicked in the balls, Kaye has and then loses a new friend, and a fat idiot gets ridiculed._

**REVIEW!!**

_Don't scare them, Vi._

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

* * *

I jumped off the highest branch of a tree, barely looking where I was landing and nearly scared the fur off a bear. It roared at me and I hissed at it—the animal then decided it would be better not to mess with the pissed, pale human being, and disappeared into the underbrush.

How _dare_ Kroenen?! I trusted him, and he stabbed me in the back! And not only that, had he lied to me? Was everything he said, all of those damn questions, just a game? I sighed and stopped; I had been walking ever since I left the estate. Estimating by the stars, I figured that I was nearly to Munich. I smirked—nearly to Munich, and I had only been walking an hour.

I was in such a rage, cursing Kroenen, Rasputin and that stupid bitch to all the pits of Hell, to suffer every torture imaginable, that I didn't see the pudgy American soldier that was pointing a gun at me until he nearly had the muzzle in my face. And really, I couldn't blame him—I was an albino in an assassin uniform, a satchel over my back and bladed tonfas on my arms. He had every right to be cautious. Well, more like terrified.

However, I was too fucking pissed to be thinking logically.

"E-E-Excuse me, m-miss, this is a r-r-restricted a-area," he stuttered in English—hello, this is _Germany_—pointing the gun at me in his shaking hands.

I briefly considered smacking the gun out of his hands and breaking his neck, but I decided not to. Instead I snapped, "And I give a damn _because_?"

Tubby was persistent, though. "Miss, I'll have to ask you to turn around and leave the premises. This is a restricted military area!"

"Or else what?"

"Or else I'll shoot!" The soldier's eyes bugged out. Apparently he wasn't used to having his authority challenged. I looked him over—what _little_ authority he had.

I sighed and rubbed my temples, attempting to regain my cool before I did something I would regret later. "Listen," I tried to explain as calmly as I could, "I suppose I ought to give you a fair warning. I'm in a really bad mood and you're picking a really bad time to mess with a really powerful mage."

"I'll shoot!"

I laughed, and he jumped, sort of shaking his gun at me; as though it were threatening. "Are you some sort of idiot? Wait—don't answer that." I cocked my head and put a hand on my hip. I lit my other one aglow with my power. "Let me give you a little lesson in grammar. The word 'mage' just happens to relate to the word 'magic'. Your fucking bullets aren't going to do me any harm! Am I getting through to you?"

If anything, the sight of my hand glowing white and crackling seemed to egg him on even more. "I'll shoot!"

I sighed and threw my hands up. "Okay, you know what, big boy? Go ahead." I gestured to my chest. Hey, if Rasputin said I couldn't die, what did I have to lose?

"What's going on here?"

I turned and saw another officer—this one a higher rank—come up to us. He looked from me to Tubby.

"I'm trying to tell this civilian that this is restricted military ground, and she refuses to listen," Tubby tried to explain. God, he sounded whiny. Or maybe that was just my nerves, making everything sound high-pitched. I did _not_ want to deal with a couple of American idiots right now.

The other officer raised his hands as if to placate a crazy animal—which I guess is what I seemed like to him. I'm surprised steam wasn't coming out of my ears. "Look, miss," he said calmly, "he's right. I don't want to cause any trouble, but if you continue to disregard orders, we'll have to open fire."

I smirked; time to screw with couple of idiot's minds. "Hey, you heard what I told Tubby. Knock yourselves out, boys." Neither of them moved, and I flipped my tonfas forward. "Am I speaking English or what? Shoot me or I'll kill the both of you. Come on!" Both brandished their guns, and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted another man—tousled brown hair, glasses, a quite perplexed look on his face—run up to us. "What's going on here?" he demanded in a very slight British accent.

And then Tubby shot me in the chest.

* * *

My eyes snapped open and the first thought that ran through my head was _beige_. It took me a few moments to realize I was staring at a beige-colored tent flap, and then someone opened the flap and stepped in, the sun spilling in behind them. I groaned and covered my eyes. "Close the fucking flap!"

A voice somewhere above me chuckled, and I sat up to see that British man who had interrupted me and the idiots last night. Or was it two nights ago? "How long was I out?" I asked.

The man smiled. "Several hours. I'm surprised you got up at all—Sergeant Henry shot you in the sternum, only several centimeters from your heart. You're lucky that you got up at all; most people don't."

"Most people aren't immortal," I countered. His eyes widened, and I explained everything—who and what I was, what I had been doing, and why I was out tempting pudgy idiots into shooting me in the sternum. As I finished, the man laughed. "Well Kaye, that's a very......odd story. My name is Trevor Bruttenholm. I'm with the British Paranormal Society."

"So what the hell are you doing here with a brigade of American dipshits?"

Trevor grinned. "I'm a supernatural advisor from President Roosevelt. We're here to sabotage the very Ragna Rok project you were working on."

"Ah." Changing the topic, I asked, "So, am I going to be walking around with a bullet in my chest now?"

Trevor shook his head. "No. Surprisingly, after Henry shot you, you began to glow white, and your wound completely healed." I nodded; that was interesting. So Rasputin wasn't joking when he said I couldn't die. I stood shakily and stepped out of the tent despite Trevor's protests that I should lay down. "You aren't fully healed!" he called out after me.

"You just said I was," I shouted over my shoulder. I could hear him run after me and slowed down, waiting for him to catch up. He was panting slightly as he matched my pace. "You're fast."

"Nice to know."

Still walking next to me, he asked, "So, now what are you going to do now?"

I paused. "Excellent question." What was I going to do now? I had nowhere to go, nothing to do, and it wasn't as though I had family. Besides, I'm quite positive that Rasputin wasn't just going to let me get away so easily. I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'll go walk around some more and hope I don't get eaten by Rasputin's mutant bears." Trevor paled, and I laughed. "I was kidding about the bears."

He smiled faintly, as if not quite sure whether or not to believe me, and straightened his jacket absently. Almost nervously. Again I shrugged. "Well, see you 'round." I turned to go find my stuff, but a hand on my shoulder stopped my short. I glanced back at Trevor, surprised. "Yes? Is there something you want to say?"

"I was wondering," he began, "If you would like to stay."

"What? Why?"

"Because," he continued, "You and I—well, my fellows and I—have a common enemy, and you know more about Ragna Rok than we do. Perhaps you could be convinced to help us."

I thought about it for a moment—it would be the perfect revenge. I nodded, and he beamed, but his smile quickly faded as I continued, "Under one condition."

"And what would that be?"

"You tell me where the hell my stuff is. I feel naked without my weapons."

Trevor laughed again and then pointed to a small group of soldiers. Tubby was with them, attempting—a.k.a _failing_—to spin my tonfas. "Your satchel is in my tent," he told me, "But I think your weapons are over there."

I stalked up to the group and waggled a finger at him. "Ah, ah, Tubby, think twice."

Tubby glared at me, but kept a grip on my tonfas. "My name isn't Tubby. It's Christopher Henry."

I shrugged. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Tubby. Listen, you really might want to give me my weapons."

Instead he tossed them to one of his buddies and put his hand on his gun holster. "Stop calling me Tubby!"

I grinned, I just _loved_ provoking this guy! "Or else what......_Tubby_?"

He pulled out his gun, brandishing it at me. "Or I'll shoot!"

"You tried that before, and what a fat lot of good that did you. Are you really stupid enough to try for strike two?" I grinned maliciously and the soldiers paled. "Don't tempt me into doing something you'll regret. Most likely the breaking of every bone in you and your buddies' bodies."

Finally, the one that had my tonfas tossed them back to me; I caught them and grinned at Tubby. "See how easy that was? I wish you had done that sooner, otherwise I wouldn't have to do this."

Tubby swallowed thickly. "Do what?"

I turned and winked at Trevor, and spun, my tonfas flashing silver as they struck a few inches away from Tubby. The soldiers was shaking, but appeared unharmed. He began to laugh and make a snide remark, but his gun broke into several slices—leaving only the handle in his hands—and all insults died in his throat.

Trevor laughed, but covered his mouth with a hand and pretended to cough when his friends glared at him. I cartwheeled up to him—I was feeling particularly energetic after being shot—and grinned. "So.....now what?"

"Now what, _what_?"

"Ragna Rok isn't until December 23. We have two weeks."

Trevor's eyes widened. "The twenty-third?!"

"Of course! When did you think it was going to be?"

The man blushed and played with his collar. "Somewhere in June...."

I balked. "June?! By then the world would probably have been over! Damn, aren't you glad I came along?"

Trevor's blush deepened. "Yes, I am; very glad, in fact. And also, as a matter of fact, we are doing something two days from now." He frowned. "Well, we will be if we knew where the SS camp was."

I sighed. "You don't have to beat around the bush, Trevor. I know where it is, and I'll come along."

"You will?"

I grinned and spun my tonfas, relishing the sound they made as they sliced through the air. "Of course. I have a score to settle."

* * *

Two nights later, I grinned as I helped pass out weapons to the guys. I had managed to make friends with most of them, except Tubby, and tonight was the night. Trevor had had me draw up a map of the SS camp—and I was surprised how much I remembered.

Of course, I _did_ have some help from a map I filched from Hitler the last time I was there, but Trevor didn't need to know that.

Trevor walked up behind me and I held out a gun. He made a face. "I abhor the use of violence." I snorted and strapped the gun to my thigh. Trevor gestured to my tonfas and I shrugged. "Hell, the more ammo, the better. I have a few grenades on my belt too."

Shaking his head, Trevor held out a piece of black fabric. I took it and then shot him a confused look. "It's a face mask," he told me, "It covers your nose and mouth, so you can't be easily recognized."

"Yeah, if by some miracle my snow-white hair doesn't tip them off first."

Trevor looked disappointed, and I kissed him on the cheek before fastening the mask over my face. "But thanks. Every little bit helps." I grinned from behind my mask. "Now if only you had some brown paint for my hair....."

He gave a strangled laugh, his cheeks still red from my little show of affection. One of the guys, Adam came up and slapped me on the back. "Hey Ghost, you ready?"

I smirked, feeling the smooth fabric slide against my cheek. "I am, but you ain't."

The twenty-something grinned at me. "Oh really? And why's that?"

I dangled the clip of his gun in front of his face and then danced backwards when he tried to grab it. I flipped backwards on top of a stack of crates. "Only baby boys go to war without protecting their guns from silly monkeys." I flipped into a handstand. "Battles within, battles without," I sang, "This battle we'll win, have no doubt." I paused and grinned. "Well, we'd better win it, or that American pride of yours is gonna take a serious kick in the balls."

I finally relented and tossed Adam back his clip, as Trevor walked up to me and patted my shoulder. "Someone's lively. Any particular reason you're being such a monkey?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I'm going to get some well deserved revenge, or maybe I just feel like spilling some blood." I pretended to sniff indignantly, "Oh, but I can't expect you to understand, you violence-abhorring Brit."

Trevor laughed and we climbed into the back of the war truck, closing the tarp behind us.

* * *

It was abnormally silent as we approached the camp, and I didn't like it. Hitler trained his troops well into the night, this I knew, so why wasn't there any noise? I gestured for the men behind me to stay put and I cast out my power, searching for anything.

And _bingo_, I found it. I turned to the others. "There's a veil around the camp. It blocks sound from outside, so intruders think that everyone is asleep. So when we cross the line, we'll be basically tripping a wire. It'll alert the spell caster instantaneously."

"And who would that be?" Trevor asked.

I cast out my power again and grinned. "Our favorite bald madman." Perfect—where there was Rasputin; there would absolutely be Ilsa and Kroenen.

Tubby jumped up and said, "Let's go!" He headed for the camp and I grabbed his foot—he crashed with such a boom I'd be surprised if China didn't hear us. "Look you brainless tub of lard," I hissed at him, "If you want to be a suicidal idiot, go ahead—you won't be missed. But now is neither the time nor the place. Now then, how many of us are there?"

Tubby looked dubious, but answered, "Fifty."

"Exactly, and there are at least two hundred times that in that camp." Tubby started counting on his fingers and I sighed, "There are ten thousand of them, you dipshit! If you make our presence known, we'll be mobbed and killed in minutes."

Tubby folded his arms over his chest and huffed. "So what do we do?" Adam asked.

"Watch." Carefully, I moved my hand until it was almost touching the veil, and gently tapped it. Then I whirled around and told everyone to hide. Just as the last of us was scrambling behind a tree, a lone SS troop crossed the border, a gun perched on his shoulder. He glanced around and grumbled that it was probably just a "fucking mouse". As he complained, I snuck behind him. He turned, and his eyes widened. "Hey, aren't you Kroenen's partner?"

I sliced off his head in one clean strike. "I was," I told the soldier's head and it tumbled around on the ground. Crouching down next to him, I searched for something in his pockets; a small insignia. Trevor looked over my shoulder. "What is that?"

"It's an insignia that prevents whoever's wearing it from tripping the 'wire'."

Tubby huffed. "Fat lot of good one piece of fabric is going to do us."

I glared at him. "You're right. It'll do us a lot of good. I'm going to use my power to counteract it and take down the veil without alerting Rasputin." I murmured a few words and watched as the veil came crashing down. Trevor glanced at me. I was about to roll my eyes when I remembered that he couldn't see the shield like I could. "Yeah, it's down."

Quietly, we stole across the few hundred yards to the compound, and I jumped over the wall, opening it from the inside. Trevor and the others walked in, tentatively stepping over the dead bodies. Trevor glanced at me. "Please tell me those were there before you got there." I grinned, but said nothing.

I signaled for the men to come closer, and turned to Trevor. "So what exactly are we doing here? Killing troops? Stealing ammo? Torching the place?"

He paused and thought for a moment, and then replied, "We simply want to destroy as many supplies as we can. Ammunition, food, vehicles, anything."

I nodded. "Right, I know where they keep their supplies—we'll hit that first—but then leave the cars to me, okay?"

They all agreed and I led them around the perimeter, until we came to a few enormous tent placed side by side. A glance inside confirmed they were the ammo tents, and men started pulling grenades out of their belts. I stopped them. "Whoa, whoa, no need to waste good gunpowder. Do any of you have a can of bug spray on you?"

Adam nodded and I borrowed two pieces of duct tape from another soldier. Using one piece, I popped the cap of the bug repellant, taping down the nozzle so it sprayed by itself. With the second I taped the grenade to the front of it. Checking to see if it was a twenty-second grenade—it was—I placed it so the bug spray was spraying on the first ammo tent, and pulled the pin. "Run!" I hissed.

We were just barely reaching the unlocked gate when the grenade exploded. Trevor nodded in appreciation as he understood what I had done. "The repellant increases the power of the grenade, which will trigger a chain reaction as one tent combusts the other, and then again."

I smiled, glad someone had the brains to get it. "Exactly." Then I gestured towards the trucks. "Right, now get back to the camp, and don't wait up. I'll meet you there."

* * *

As they climbed into the vehicles, I doubled back, watching as SS troops ran to inspect the damage, leaving their cars unguarded. I pulled out my penknife, picking open the dashboard, revealing the wires.

I was about to cut the brakes, when the muzzle of a gun I knew very well pressed against the back of my neck. "Get out of ze car, Kaye."

I grinned and climbed out slowly, before whirling around and swinging my foot at Kroenen's gun, knocking it a good ten yards away. He was wearing his mask, but a short-sleeved shirt, revealing several scars I hadn't seen before. It looked like he had had a close encounter with a whip.....and lost.

Kroenen pulled out his katar daggers, but I still didn't move. "Go ahead, try it. Your _master_ took away my power to die, remember? I suppose you've actually done me a favor, you bastard."

However the assassin laughed. "You don't understand the extent of Rasputin's power over you, do you Kaye? He can control anysing you do." He paused and I could hear a trace of jealousy and rage in his voice. "He can even make you kill zat professor of yours."

I smirked from behind my face mask. "Oh, what's wrong? Jealous of my new _friend_? _Trevor_ and I get along _so_ well, like we were meant for each other...."

Kroenen growled and swung his daggers at me; I backflipped onto the car. He followed me as I led him across the roofs of the SS cars, until we were back on the ground where we began. I perched on a tree, grinning at Kroenen as I fished something out of my satchel. "Say, Kroenen, you like clockwork, don't you?" I pretended not to know. "Can you tell me what this is?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot from behind his mask. "Zat is an alarm clock."

"Is it?"

And then he gasped, whirling around to look at the cars. Kroenen was right, it was an alarm clock, but it was also a trigger for the paper explosives I had dropped on the cars.

Paper explosives were a personal creation; there was a string connected to clock and stretched from explosive to explosive—when the alarm clock rang, the vibrations would ignite the paper. And since the cars were so close together, it would set off a chain reaction; so I didn't really need more than one bomb. But hey, better safe then sorry.

The alarm clock announced midnight, and the first bomb went off, the force slamming Kroenen into a tree. I stayed until each bomb had gone off, and then jumped down and started off into the woods.

* * *

As I walked, something was eating away at me—what Kroenen had said. And I knew it was true; Rasputin could make me do his bidding; I had seen an example as he froze me as I was about to leave the manor. I swallowed thickly, Kroenen would no doubt tell Rasputin about Trevor and the others; and the madman could very easily have me massacre them all.

Sighing, I saw the tents of the American camp. Everyone was already asleep, and it was easy sneaking past the few guards that were up. I ran into Trevor's tent and snatched a piece of paper, jotting down everything I knew about Ragna Rok—location, exact time, and exactly what would happen. Below it, I wrote, smiling; 'Thanks for everything, you Brit.'

I put the paper on his desk, where Trevor would surely see it, and headed out.

* * *

REVIEW!!

_Kit &_ Violet


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay, this is a bit of a nothing chapter, kind of a filler. This will tie in later, but enjoy._

AND REVIEW!!

_**Warnings: The usual.**_

_**Disclaimers: We own nothing but the plot, Kaye, Adele, Abel, Arvin and Mathias.**_

_P.S. I adore the spy-hoes!!_

* * *

I woke with a start and heard a crunch of hay underneath me. For one second, I thought that everything had been a horrible dream, and I was still asleep in that barn in Asperg. But then I saw my uniform and the two silver tonfas that glinted in a square of sunlight from the patchy roof.

Damn. Well, a reincarnate can hope, can't she?

"Hey lady, what're you doin' up there!"

I flinched and glanced down; a small boy looked up at me, his head cocked to the side in curiosity. I grabbed my weapons and jumped down, expecting the kid to run away, but instead he ran right up to me and peered at my weapons. "Oh! Where did you get these? How do you use them? Why do you have them?"

I'll admit, I had no idea the kid would react this way. As he kept bombarding me with questions, a female voice called out, "Arvin! Arvin, where are you!"

The little boy froze and turned around. "In the barn, Mama!"

Footsteps crunched on the ground outside, and a tall, willowy woman peered in. She spotted us and stepped in, running her hands over the bandana that covered her jet black hair. She turned to her son and scolded him. "Don't wander off, Arvin! Go and help your father with the chickens."

The little boy sighed and trudged off, and the woman turned to me. "I'm sorry he was bothering you." Finally, it occurred to her that it was her barn, and I was a stranger—a stranger with sharp, pointy things, no less. "What are you doing here?"

"Sorry. I've been walking from Asperg, and I guess I just fell asleep in here."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you SS?"

I made a face. "Of course not!" It only occurred to me after I had said it that the woman could very easily be an SS spy, but I dismissed the idea. I had seen what the woman had been like before I got there—if she was SS, she was either a miracle actress-by-birth or a genius.

The woman, satisfied by my answer, extended a hand. "My name is Adele." She looked at my weapons. "Would you mind if I asked....?"

"Oh, no. I'm a Russian soldier," I lied through my teeth. "An early dispatch, if you will. They send me ahead to check if everything was alright for the main force to come."

"You don't have an accent."

I smiled. "I'm just amazing like that, but I can't say so much about my comrades."

I heard the little boy laughing outside and a male voice scolding. I turned to Adele. "Arvin seems very....."

She nodded. "He is. He loves everything—his name means _friend to all_."

I laughed. "I could tell. Most children would run if they saw a strange woman in their barn, but the first thing he did was ask about my tonfas!"

Suddenly, another young male voice called out, getting closer to the barn. "Mother! I can't find the bucket! Do you know where Father might have put it?" As the voice reached the barn, another young man—this one older—stepped in.

I gasped—the boy was the spitting image of Kroenen; or at least the way Kroenen would have looked as a child. He glanced at me, his expression hard and serious, and repeated his question. Adele shrugged and introduced us. "Mathias, this is...."

"Kaye," I supplied.

"Mathias, this is Kaye. Please say hello to her."

He glared. "Hello."

Adele smiled gently. "Thank you. Now then, I don't know where your father put the bucket. Go and ask him." As Mathias turned and left, and she turned to me. "Won't you come inside?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose—"

"Nonsense." She grabbed my arm and dragged me inside. As we walked to the house, I spotted Mathias, Arvin and a dark-brown haired man who I could only assume was their father. I turned to Adele. "If you don't mind my saying, Mathias doesn't look like you."

The woman sighed. "We don't know why. Arvin looks like Abel and I, but Mathias.....he doesn't look like anyone in our family. He has blonde hair and blue eyes.....so strange. And he's so serious for an eleven-year-old. So hard-working and persistent."

I nodded. "This is a good thing though, isn't it?"

"I suppose."

* * *

An hour later, after I had been introduced to her husband and roped into staying for a few days, we all sat at the kitchen table as Adele bustled around the kitchen, constantly rebuffing my offers and attempts to help her.

Abel looked at me from over his coffee. "So, Kaye, how old are you?"

"Twenty."

He whistled. "Twenty? Rather young to be in the Army, isn't it?"

"Men go into the Army in their preteens, I figure I'm starting late." He laughed and Mathias glared at me from across the table. "Those are very strange weapons. I've never seen Russians use them."

I winked. "That's because I'm the only one who uses them. They're tonfas."

"I know what they are."

My eyes narrowed. "Are you accusing me of something?" The boy held my gaze for a few seconds, and then looked away. Adele and Abel exchanged glances.

* * *

Four days later—a week away from Ragna Rok—I demanded that I be allowed to somehow help around the farm. Grudgingly, Mathias took me along with him to chop some wood, but when we got there, he did all the work. As if to show how well off he was without me, he started cutting down a tree; at least three feet in diameter.

I watched him struggle to lift the ax after the first forty minutes. "Do you need any help?"

He stopped and glared at me, wiping sweat from his brow. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth, "And besides, I don't need a _woman's_ help."

I frowned. "You know, the last person to tell me that looked exactly like you."

Mathias paused, curious. "Oh? And what happened to him?"

I smirked. "I plowed his sorry ass into the dirt." Mathias's eyes widened and he tossed me the ax. I caught it in my right hand and put it down. Mathias gave me an odd look but I shrugged and looked at the tree. The kid had cut it more that halfway, using a concave cut. Planting my right foot on the trunk, I twisted and kicked. It didn't budge.

Mathias smirked at me and I smirked back. "Just watch, kiddo."

With an enormously loud groan, the tree keeled backwards, hitting the ground with a crash. I turned back to Mathias, my hands on my hips. "Well? What was that you were saying about a woman's help?"

He blushed, and reminded me so much of Kroenen. "I would have preferred it if you plowed me into the dirt."

I was about to say something, when a sharp voice called out behind me, "Hey, farm brat! You have our money?"

Mathias's eyes widened and he froze, scared. I turned, and my lips curled back in a snarl. Green Police—another Nazi force.

Six or seven of them walked down the road towards us, their hands on their guns, as though showing them off. I hissed to Mathias, "You know these jokers?" He nodded. "Yeah. They come around here, always bullying us for money we don't have."

I frowned, and the Nazi shouted again as he got closer. "Brat! We're talking to you!"

I turned, glaring. "Hey jackass, if you have something to say, say it to me."

The men paused, and then laughed. "Aw," one of them crooned, leering at me, "The brat's got a lady friend."

I glanced around for something, anything I could use as a weapon. I had left my tonfas in the barn, and I didn't want to risk any questions from Mathias. Finally, I spotted them—two sticks shaped almost exactly like tonfas—lying next to the fallen tree. I snatched them, and gestured for the men to come closer.

They laughed again and one of them stepped forward. I crouched and struck at his feet with my makeshift weapon, knocking him to the ground in half a second. The Nazis' laughter died in their throats, and they all lunged at me.

I spun, remembering the things I had practiced with Kroenen; hit the bending points, knees, elbows, hips. Bring them to the ground. But as much as I hated to admit it, I was losing. The men were steering ever closer to Mathias, and every step, I had to try harder to avoid smashing the boy's skull. I caught a glimpse of Mathias in the fray, and suddenly, I remember something.

It had been a training session with Kroenen, and we were posing each other question; like "what would you do if......?"

_Kroenen and I were sitting in the courtyard; I was leaning against the warm wall. Kroenen frowned as he answered my question, grinning when he came up with a suitable answer. "Vell zen, it's my turn."_

"_Fire away."_

"_Vhat vould you do if you vere ever surrounded by more attackers zen you could handle—and you vere veaponless?"_

_I smirked. "I'd spin like a top."_

_He arched his blonde eyebrows in surprise. "Vhat?"_

_I stood, walking into the middle of the courtyard, flipping into a handstand. I started spinning in a circle, balancing on my hands, and leaned backwards a little bit. I maintained this position for a little while, then dropped back on my feet. I turned back to Kroenen. "See? My attackers would have no choice but to back off or get hit in the face, and it would give me a chance to regain the upper hand."_

And suddenly, I was back in the middle of the woods, with a bunch of Green Police trying to kill me. I took a step back and dropped to my hands, spinning the second they hit the ground. Fortunately, I didn't _need_ to figure out a way to gain the upper hand; the idiots collided with my feet. They were all unconscious by the time I righted myself.

I glanced at Mathias, but I saw that he was already gone, streaking back to the house. I headed after him, and I heard him yelling to Adele, "Mother! Mother! Come here!"

Adele burst out of the house, her eyes wide. When she saw it was only him, she scolded, "Mathias, don't do that! You scared me!"

"But listen! Kaye and I were chopping down one of the trees, and the Green Police were coming down the road—"

Adele's eyes widened. "What? Green Police, where?"

Mathias scowled at his mother. "Listen, mother! They were coming for money again, but Kaye fought them! They're all unconscious!"

Abel—who had overheard the conversation—walked up to us. "Really?! But what happens when they wake up? They'll just come after us again!"

I pointed to where the Nazis were; the men were getting up and looking in our direction. I grinned cheekily and waved, and they took off down the road—far away from us. I turned back to Abel. "I don't think they'll be a problem anymore."

Mathias was smiling at me. "Can you show me how to do that? And how to use these?" He held up the two makeshift tonfas I had used. Upon seeing them, I hissed as pain jarred through my hands. I glanced at them—they were bloody and scratched from where the rough wood had done a number on my hands. I muttered a few words under my breath and my skin knit itself back together. I didn't notice, however, that Mathias was still watching me.

* * *

I rolled over on the loft—I had absolutely refused to take up a room, and insisted on sleeping in the barn—and sighed. Ragna Rok was four days away, and I was dwelling more on Kroenen than I wanted. Well, more on what he had said. Did he know where I was now? Would he come after me? Would he have Rasputin have me murder Adele and her family if he knew?

I didn't know how to answer the first two, but the last one was undoubtedly a yes.

Getting up, I jumped down to the floor, calming the horses that I scared. Grabbing a few things I needed aside from my weapons, I snuck into the house. Creeping into the kitchen, I took several rolls of dollars—around six thousand dollars worth—and put them on the table. A sort of thank-you. Fishing a small figurine of a bear—I had carved that in my spare time—out of my pocket, I left that for Arvin.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

I'll admit, I wasn't surprised to hear Mathias's voice behind me. He was leaning against the doorway outside. I nodded. "Yeah. Were you expecting me to?"

Mathias smiled faintly. "I guessed. Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I'm probably leaving Germany, though."

Mathias frowned, for once showing the little kid he actually was, instead of the hard shell he showed everyone else. "Are you coming back?"

I paused, and then reached up, unclipping one of my earrings. It was a stud, white gold with an ultra-rare red diamond for the stone in the center. Kroenen had given them to me, saying they matched my eyes. I took the one out of my right ear and handed it to Mathias. He looked up at me, confused. "What's this for?"

I smiled. "These are my favorite earrings. Hang onto that; it'll give me a reason to come back."

Then I turned and slipped away into the night.

* * *

_Enjoy!_

And review!

_Sorry we're pressed for time, we're supposed to be watching Get Smart._

_Kit &_ Violet


	8. Chapter 8

_Okay, sorry for the wait, but if you read our profile, you would know why!_

_Yesterday was Christmas Adam (Get it? Because Adam came before Eve), and today is Christmas Eve! Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate, and Happy Holidays to those who don't! I hope you all have an equally great holiday season! (And no, I'm not just saying that to be politically correct.)_

Kit's being a pisser! She told me not to get her anything!

_That's because I'm already getting what I want from my mom! _

What's that?

_Hellboy 2 on DVD. _

Fine, but I'm still getting you something.

_Same here. _

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual**_

_Oh, and a small mistake I made. In the movie (which I used for references in this chapter), Ragna Rok was on October 9th, not December 23rd. Sorry for the mistake, but by the time I found out, it was too late to change._

* * *

I don't know why I came here.

What could have possibly possessed me to come to the old church—hidden in the hills of a small island just off the coast of Scotland— I will never know, but here I was. The mood was perfect for what plans the night hid, cloudy and dark with raindrops pelting down on the Nazis—_and_ on the small, hidden troop of American soldiers—like bullets. I stood on a small cliff above the church, my sharp eyes catching everything that went on. I picked out a young Nazi soldier; technicians hovering around him, drawing runes on his arms and chest—the balance. I sighed; I wonder if the poor boy knew he wasn't going to live through the night.

And then I spotted him; Kroenen, dressed in his trench coat and hat, patrolling the area of the church. Suddenly he stopped and looked up to where I was, but I knew he couldn't see me. And even if he could, what would he do? What could I possibly do from up here?

On an impulsive whim, I decided to get closer. Launching myself off the cliff, I skidded down the mountainside until I reached a small jagged outcropping. Hiding behind it, I waited to watch the proceedings.

But suddenly, a few whispered words reached my ears and I glanced over at the American soldiers. The small ditch they and Trevor were hidden in was sheltered by a giant cross, but I could see something was going on. From what I could hear over the rain, there was a new man in the group—Sergeant Whitman—one who doubted Trevor's studies. I snorted; if only this soldier had met him a few weeks earlier when I had been around. Whitman and Trevor argued for a few minutes—Whitman telling Trevor that there was nothing here but sheep—but then the soldier peered over the edge of the ditch. Whitman hissed, "Holy _Jesus_."

"They must be here for the sheep," Trevor quipped. I smirked.

Rasputin had several technicians hook him up to the 'summoner'—the giant, enchanted, mechanical hand that was rigged up to the portal that would summon the gods of chaos. Ilsa stood by him, looking up at him in admiration as he handed her some sort of book.

"What I will do tonight," Rasputin yelled, "Can _never_ be undone! I will open a portal and awaken the Ogdru Jahad, the seven gods of chaos. Our enemies will be destroyed, and from the ashes, a new Eden will arise." And then he began chanting the words I had gone over with him millions of times. The magic words.

The portal hummed as it began to open, and I shivered. I could feel it in my bones—the thick, palpable evil that hung on the other end of the portal. The Ogdru Jahad. My mounting dread rose, and a giant mounted searchlight was sucked into the void. I could feel the stirrings on the other side of the portal; the Ogdru Jahad were waking up. It was beginning—the beginning of the end of the world.

And then I heard a small pop. My head whirled so hard to the side my neck would have screamed if it had a mouth. The new soldier had pulled the pin of a grenade and launched it at the portal. It missed and hit several technicians—launching one into the void for a gruesome death.

Then everything exploded in a blur, soldiers running out and Nazis taken by surprise. I moved to get up and then froze, swearing. I had missed my chance; Kroenen was already striding towards the American soldiers—I couldn't protect them. I watched the assassin shoot Trevor in the leg, and then kill several in one fell swoop—Tubby was one of them.

I had marked Trevor for dead, but then I watched him crawl over to a fallen soldier and steal a grenade from his belt. Unfortunately, his moving caught Kroenen's attention, and the assassin strode over to him.

I could see that Kroenen was thinking of killing Trevor then and there, but someone interjected. A soldier from across the platform shot Kroenen in the chest, and I thought that it would at least give Trevor a chance to get away—immortal or not, even Kroenen and I need to rest after getting shot in the chest. But it didn't seem to hurt him at all. He didn't even bleed.

Meanwhile, Trevor had used the distraction to pull the pin and launch the grenade— the explosive fell just under the revolving rings of the portal. Which would have been a good thing if not for one big _if_.

_If_ Kroenen hadn't seen it.

Sheathing his knives, Kroenen took off at a run towards the portal, dropping to his knees and straining to reach the bomb, his hand just barely avoiding getting sliced off by the rings. But it was too late; the grenade exploded, sending him flying into a pillar. Seconds later, a long stick of metal was shot after him, stabbing through both him and the pillar.

I heard a giant groan as the metal rings began to bend and break from the force of the explosion, and I could feel the magic strain for more power to repair the damage. The Nazi balance screeched as he burst into ashes, and that left only one more place for the magic to look. Rasputin.

The mad monk realized exactly what was happening, but it was too late for him to stop it. As the coup de grace, Rasputin was sucked into the void, just as Kroenen hung his head.

And in the commotion, no one noticed the small creature that was spit out of the void, except for me.

* * *

I turned and jumped, launching myself back towards the cliff that I had come from and heading for the woods. I hadn't taken three steps before I stopped. "Come out, hellchild. I know you're there."

A small chittering reached my ears, and I arched my eyebrows as I turned around and faced it—well, faced him. It really was a child; Anung Un Rama, the Seed of Destruction. I could tell from his stone hand that he held awkwardly in his hand. I sat down cross-legged on the ground, and gestured for him to come over. When he didn't budge, I pulled a small candy bar out of my belt—Baby Ruth, the ones Trevor had given me.

Immediately at the prospect of food, Un Rama scampered over and sat on my lap, greedily eating the candy before searching my belt for more. He whined when he found that it was empty.

I smiled, and then my eyes caught Trevor and a few soldiers grouped together, taking in the aftermath. My eyes lit up.

"Hellchild," I told the demon on my lap, "I don't have anymore candy, but I know where you could find some." Un Rama's ears perked up, and he looked at me with his strange yellow eyes. I pointed down at Trevor. "You see that man right there, with the funny things on his eyes? That's a very good friend of mine, and he has lots of sweets."

Without my needing to prod him, Un Rama scampered down the hill towards Trevor. I watched to see that he made it to Trevor okay, and then turned. But the rain had turned the hill to mush—I would have to cut through the church and up the hill on the other side.

I trekked over the ruined portal pieces and the bodies of several Nazi technicians, when a familiar voice cut me short.

"Kaye......please...."

I whirled around, and found myself facing what I thought was Kroenen's body. It wasn't—he was still alive, and reaching out a hand towards me. "Kaye, help me.....please, help."

My eyes narrowed and I tore off my face mask—I had taken a tendency to wearing it lately. "Why the hell should I help you?"

Kroenen could see it was useless, but he kept trying, desperation a strong note in his voice. "Kaye.....I'm begging you...._please_....."

Although my mind told my legs to walk away, I found myself striding towards the assassin and pulling the metal shaft out of the pillar. Kroenen collapsed onto the ground, sucking in breaths. I dropped the shaft next to him, and turned to walk away. "This is the last thing I will ever do for you, Kroenen."

* * *

Trevor Broom cradled the small demon in his arms as he and the soldiers trekked back to the trucks. Adam was walking by him, watching Anung Un Rama—for that was what the demon was—eat a Baby Ruth. The soldier arched an eyebrow. "Hey, Trev, they don't have Baby Ruth's in Hell, do they?"

Trevor looked at the soldier in surprise. "No, of course not. Why?"

Adam gestured to the demon child. "'Cause, he's eating that thing like he had already had one. If someone was giving you some strange thing wrapped in plastic, would you eat it?"

Broom stopped to consider this; Adam was right. But before he could say anything, Un Rama squealed and pointed to something. Trevor followed the direction of the child's massive right hand, which was pointing to a hill on the side of the church opposite the one the soldiers' hideout had been on.

A dark figure was standing on the top of the hill, watching them. And then, as if to clarify Trevor's thoughts, a single, slim, brilliant white shard of lightning pierced the sky right next to the figure.

"Kaye."

* * *

REVIEW DAMNIT!!

_And happy holidays!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	9. Chapter 9

OMG, this is the second to last one!

_I hope you guys like it ('specially eclipse!)! And just something I want to mention; please check our profile, we have an important announcement on there!_

_**Warnings/Disclaimers: The usual.**_

* * *

Time passed.

Sixty years to be exact; more then half a century of watching time flow by. Ragna Rok was a failure, and Rasputin, Ilsa and Kroenen escaped to the North. Their estate was soon abandoned after its master disappeared—I personally watched the mansion burn to the ground—and the forest soon reclaimed its stolen land. Trevor returned to America, and I can only guess as to how he has succeeded over the years.

As for me, time no longer meant anything. The years flew by in short, quick blurs; all the same routine—never stay in one place for too long, avoid being filmed or having pictures taken, don't make friends. I quickly made myself a profession slaying demons—which now that I think about it, was so ironic. I slayed other's demons because I couldn't slay my own.

Only a few small memories remain in focus, two or three. Even now, however, they grow fuzzy—I guess that's what happens when you're immortal.

* * *

_**1958**_

_**Munich, Germany**_

_I walked down the street, taking in the familiar views. Despite what I had told Mathias, I didn't leave Germany for good; I just couldn't. I suppose it was nostalgia, or maybe I was just too tired to try and start again somewhere else. _

_As I walked, skillfully dodging past street vendors and pickpockets, something red caught my eye. To this day, I wonder how I could have spotted it—a small, blood red earring on a young man's ear. I shrugged it off—it was probably some new craze—but then I noticed that he only wore one. And that he had blonde hair and blue eyes that would have made an angel jealous. I turned and was about to run, but the man's voice stopped me._

"_Kaye? Is that you?"_

_I froze and faced him. "Mathias?" The young man beamed, and I knew I got it right. He hurried up to me and looked me over, smiling. "You haven't changed."_

"_Really? Hadn't noticed."_

_His grin widened. "Even your sarcasm remains—stronger than ever." He gestured the way he was going. "I was heading back to my home; would you like to join me?" Before I could reply, he grabbed my arm and dragged me the remaining hundred feet, up the stairs, and into his living room. I sat down, looking around, and my eyes caught on a pair of wooden sticks mounted above his fireplace. Sticks shaped like tonfas._

_Mathias followed my gaze. "Oh, remember those? Those were the ones you used to beat the Green Police." He rubbed his palms and smiled. "I practiced with those a lot—you wouldn't believe the amount of splinters they have."_

_I grinned. "So, how have you been? No ring, I see—haven't married yet?" I paused. "How old are you now? Twenty-three?"_

"_Twenty-five. And you?"_

"_Still twenty."_

_To his credit, Mathias didn't seem surprised. Instead, he sat down on the couch across from me, his expression curious. "How?"_

"_Well, to be blunt, I'm magical."_

_He smirked. "I figured."_

_I arched my eyebrows. "You did?"_

"_Well, maybe it was that way you knocked down a two-ton tree, or how you healed your hand."_

_Shit, he had seen that? "Point taken." I glanced at him. "So what have you been up to in the fourteen years I've been gone?"_

_Mathias looked down. "Well, I left home when I was fifteen to become an apprentice here in the city—Mother had enough mouths to feed without me—and learned something interesting."_

"_Like what?"_

"_Well, in case you didn't notice, I don't look like the rest of my family."_

_I feigned surprise. "You don't say?"_

_He grinned. "Well, it turns out Adele wasn't my mother. My father had a previous wife, who was my mother—it's her that I look like. My father didn't know that I was alive, and when my mother died, my older half-brother brought me to him and Adele." He shook his head. "And I always wondered why my last name was different; Father said my birth mother gave me the same surname as she gave my half-brother."_

_I froze. "This half-brother of yours, do you know what his name was?"_

_Mathias looked at me. "Yes. It was Karl, why?"_

_I gasped; it couldn't be. "And what's your last name?"_

_Now Mathias was confused. "Kroenen. Why?"_

_My jaw dropped. "Impossible. I don't believe it." Mathias grabbed my arm, his face worried. "Don't believe what? Kaye, what's going on?!"_

_I sighed and told him everything from the beginning—much like I did with Trevor. When I was finished I caught a glance of his expression and leaned back into the couch cushions. "Feel free to laugh or call me crazy if you like."_

_Mathias shook his head. "No, actually it makes quite a bit of sense." He took a deep breath. "So you knew my half-brother, and you helped almost destroy the world?"_

_I smirked. "Crazy, huh?"_

"_Indeed." Mathias paused, and then asked, "So, now what? Where will you go?" He winked. "Out of Germany again?"_

_I shoved him playfully. "Shut up—as a matter of fact, I _did_ leave Germany."_

"_Oh?"_

"_Yeah, _oh_. I lived in Russia for five years." I sighed. "And as for now, I don't know—just like I didn't know fourteen years ago. But I do know that I'm leaving Europe, probably for a long while." I smiled sadly. "I'm quite sure I've killed all the demons this continent has to offer."_

_Mathias returned my sad smile. "Will I see you again?"_

"_Probably not." I ignored the small twinge in my heart and put on a stoic expression. _

"_Can't you give me something to make sure you come back?"_

"_Like what? I already gave you my earring—I have nothing else."_

_He frowned, and he reminded me of the kid I remembered from fourteen years back. "Can't you use the earring?"_

_I shook my head. "I don't want it anymore."_

"_Can you give me your word?"_

"_You can't trust my word."_

_Mathias sighed and stood, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I don't need to trust your word; I can trust you instead." He smiled. "Will you at least visit?"_

_I nodded, and turned to head for the door. As I was about to walk out, Mathias called after me, "Hey, Kaye!"_

_I turned. "Yeah?"_

_He grinned. "If you see Kroenen, can you slap him for me?"_

_I arched an eyebrow. "Why?" _

_Mathias's smile widened, and the blood-red diamond in his ear glinted. "Because he made you cry."_

* * *

And I did visit him, every year until he died, ten years later. That year, 1968, for some reason, I didn't head straight for his home—somehow, intuition steered me away from there—I had instead veered off towards a small graveyard several blocks away. And I knew I was right, his brand-new headstone had been a beacon in the midst of the worn-down tombstones—he had died a week before I had arrived back in Munich. Walking up to it, I had noticed someone had carved a likeness of him into the marble, completely colorless except for one splotch of color. The blood-red stone in his ear.

After that I left Germany for good—for me, it was nothing but a country of ghosts—and decided to cross the ocean like millions of others did; to seek an escape in America, even if only for a few months.

* * *

_**1977**_

_**Columbus, Ohio**_

_I was strolling down a small park, taking a small satisfaction in the kill I had just made. Even though white people had take over Native American land, the native gods and demons still lived—and they were rather angry. The sun was shining on my face, and I had a vain hope of getting a tan—although it hadn't work any year before—when a voice called out, "Now then, do my eyes deceive me, or is that a silly ghost monkey walkin' down the path?"_

_I froze midstep and smiled, turning. "And do _my_ eyes deceive me, or is that a little war boy sitting on the bench?"_

_Adam stood up and grinned, his frail, sixty-three year old bones creaking. I walked up to him and he gripped my arm in an iron hold. I smiled. "Wow, there's still some strength in these old bones."_

_Adam frowned playfully. "Well not all of us can be immortal. And besides, these old bones could kick your ass!"_

_I laughed loud for the first time in a long time. "You couldn't keep your clip in your gun at age thirty, and you're talking about kicking asses at sixty-three?"_

_The man smiled and then gestured for me to sit down on the bench next to him. "So, what happened to you, Ghost? Just up and left after our little shindig at the SS camp. Damn near drove Trev loco. And then your little silhouette game during Ragna Rok? Had me wonderin' for days if that was really you up there on the hill or if it was a trick of the lightning."_

"_It was me, all right," I told him. Then I asked, "So, what happened to you boys after Ragna Rok?"_

_He smiled. "Well, those of us that survived, we all came back to the states, and Trev went off to the BPRD with Hellboy—"_

"_The what? With who?"_

_Adam glanced at me, and then his eyes widened. "Oh, tha's right, you don't know. Trevor went back to the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense, and took this little demon we found after Ragna Rok with him."_

"_Oh, I know about the hellchild," I told him, "I was the one who sent him to Trevor. I just didn't know that you named him Hellboy." I wrinkled my nose. "Or that there was such thing as the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense."_

_Adam snapped his fingers and laughed. "So it was you! Hellboy snatched that Baby Ruth like he knew what it was when we were tryin' to get him down and I knew he hadta have already eaten one!"_

_I smirked, and then a chill ran down my spine—demon. Adam saw the look on my face and nodded. "Duty calls, huh? Need help takin' care of this one?" I shook my head and stood up, and he smiled. "Just as well, you're still the same as always, Ghost." He paused. "Do me a favor; swing by Trev sometime. He's dying to see you," the man winked, "'Specially with that crush he had on ya."_

_My eyes widened at that little tidbit, but I nodded again. "I'll do that."_

* * *

I admit I never did; time just seemed to flow by without giving me time to slow down. I stay in American more than a few months—more like seven years—with only several week-long breaks to Europe in-between. However, I migrated farther and farther east with each turn, finally ending up in New Jersey; the state the supposedly inexistent BPRD was hidden. The demons here were much bigger and more.....mutated, due to the polluted sludge that flowed from New York, New York—the ecological hellhole of America.

* * *

_**1983**_

_**Trenton, New Jersey**_

_I ran along the rooftops, trying not to breathe in the smoggy air and avoid the bugs as best I could when I heard sounds of fighting from an alley below. Skidding to a stop, I peered into the alley and my jaw dropped. Of all the......_

_A giant red man with shaved down horns and a long tail was down below, taking shots at a long sinewy demon that was attempting to shoot acid at him. I knew exactly who it was......although I _wonder_ how._

_Hmm,—note the sarcasm—maybe it was the fact that the right hand he was currently using to pound in the demon's head was at least two sizes larger that the norm and was made out of stone; or maybe it was the dozen bars of Baby Ruth that stuck out of his pocket. _

_Finally the demon slumped to the ground and Hellboy jabbed a finger at it, lighting a cigar with his other hand. "Now stay down!" he told it, and turned to walk away, his tail swaying contentedly. But suddenly, the demon raised its head and leaped. In that split second I jumped down. _

_I had cut off its head when Hellboy turned around, aiming his gun directly at me. I was anything but threatened, and I smiled. "Hello, hellchild. Long time, no see, huh?"_

_Hellboy paused. "_Hellchild_......I know that from somewhere." He jabbed his gun at me. "Who the hell are ya?!"_

_I smirked. "No one important." I dropped into a crouch and launched myself onto the roof. Hellboy blinked as he lost sight of me, but then fixed his gun back on me when he realized all I had done was jumped up. I smiled. "But do me a favor, hellchild. Tell Trevor that the Ghost says hello."_

* * *

And now it was 2004, and chronologically, I was eighty, even though Rasputin's spell kept me frozen in time at twenty. I wound my way down through the woods in Trenton, vaguely hearing the cars rush past on the highway. As I jumped down the last tree, the giant building loomed into view. The Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense.

I snuck past the guards and down the lift, stopping for a few seconds in the main hall while I tracked the energy I was looking for. Then I was off for the study, finding it in a few minutes. Trevor was standing over a desk, scrutinizing several scraps of paper. "Moscow," he muttered, "Who wants us in Moscow?"

I stepped out of the dark, smiling. "You've grown old, Trevor." Trevor jumped and spun around, but his shoulders dropped in relief when he saw me. "And you, Kaye, you've stayed so young."

I shrugged and walked up to him, letting him wrap me in a hug. He held me at arm's length and looked me up and down. "What happened to you? You just _left_."

"It was for your safety—Rasputin could have made me kill you at any moment." I smiled as I took off my face-mask. "Adam told me that it nearly drove you insane."

"It did." Trevor paused in thought for a moment. "I heard he lives in Ohio now," he said, "What else did he tell you?"

I smirked, and crossed my arms over my chest. "Quite a bit. He told me you had a little crush on me." I laughed as Trevor cleared his throat and blushed. He glanced at the strange, empty tank in the corner of the room, and then said. "Well, it's good to hear from you for the first time in sixty years."

I arched my eyebrows. "What's this _first time_ business? I told Hellboy to pass along a message!"

Trevor frowned. "I suppose he forgot." The man smiled. "He's grown, hasn't he?"

"Quite a bit."

"He's fallen in love now, with—"

"Liz Sherman," I supplied. At his surprised glance, I smirked and gestured over to the tank. "And where's Abe?"

"You're been around longer that you suggest."

I shrugged. "I have my sources—the fay in the Troll Market are rather talkative when properly motivated." Trevor arched an eyebrow, but didn't ask, instead settling for, "Why are you here?"

"I had to see you one more time before you die." Trevor just nodded, and I frowned. "You know?"

He nodded, and for the first time, I realized he really was an old man. "Yes, I was expecting it for a while. I suppose there's nothing I can do to stop it."

"And what about Hellboy?" I asked, "He's your son."

"I can only hope that John can help him become a man."

"_What makes a man, a man,"_ I recited. Stepping over to the table, I gestured at the two pieces of paper under the lenses on the desk. "What's this?"

"A piece of paper Hellboy found on......on the _body_," Trevor avoided saying the name, as though it would hurt me—even though it didn't matter; I had long let go. "It's the location of Rasputin's mausoleum."

"They're back for him? Already?"

Trevor nodded, and handed me a copy of the paper that I hadn't seen before. "Here."

I took it and tucked it into my satchel before lightly kissing Trevor on the cheek. "Goodbye, Trevor."

And then I disappeared into the dark of the hallway, just as Kroenen made his way down the stairs.

* * *

I glanced behind me as the wheels of my stolen Ducati crunched over the snowy road of Volokolamsk Fields. The BPRD trucks were still far behind—too far behind to see me. My heart ached—I had watched from the roof as Trevor was buried; looking on from the roof of the mortuary as they carried the casket, and standing only a few scant feet away from the coffin during the service. And what hurt the most was that I was never going to see him again—I would never die.

My motorcycle crunching over an enormous chunk of ice woke me from my thoughts, and I glanced up to see a wrought-iron gate looming up before me. I pulled my bike to a stop by the gate and snuck into the graveyard, sidestepping the souls that loomed out of their graves and pulled at my clothes. When I spotted the mausoleum, I snorted—leave it to Rasputin to go for big and impressive. But suddenly, a thought occurred to me; running several rows down, I kicked the lid off the stone tomb and dropped in, coughing as the dust flew. Peeling back the wood, I muttered a few words and sat back on my haunches as the corpse came to life, the noose around his neck swinging like mad. The corpse glared at me, and I smiled. "Ivan Kleimentovich?" I asked in Russian.

He arched a withered eyebrow and his jaw dropped—literally. "_Yelena?_ Is that you?"

I helped him put his jaw back in place. "The one and only. Long time no see, hm?"

"How long have I been dead?"

I paused. "One hundred and seventeen years." Changing the subject, I asked, "Can you do me a favor?"

Ivan frowned. "What kind of favor can I do? I'm dead—half my spine is gone!"

"You don't even have to move. There's a big red monkey coming here in about an hour, and you're the only talker for the next four hundred miles—let alone the only one who knows how to get through Rasputin's mausoleum."

Ivan gaped, and his jaw wobbled dangerously. "Rasputin?! What is that bastard still doing alive? It's his fault I'm dead, you know—"

I cut him off with a hand. "Just listen, will you help him?"

The dead man scowled, and crossed his arms over his bony chest. "Fine, but I won't like it." I smiled and broke the spell, and Ivan fell back into the coffin. With a gesture of my hand, the wood bent back to its original place. Jumping up, I replaced the lid, and made my way into the mausoleum, past the first room, and into a giant cavern. Here I paused; knowing Rasputin, any step placed wrong would mean death. I glanced down at the never-ending pit of gears below me. Or in my case, it would involve a very long fall involving much bone-breaking at the end.

Suddenly, the door shut behind me and instinctively I took off running, clearing the bridge before the first hammer struck. As my magic broke down the second door, I paused in the doorway and watched as the bridge rebuilt itself, waiting for the next victim.

Starting down the tunnel, I paused—_music_. The hallway petered out into a small corridor lined with spikes, and I could see a table with a very familiar gramophone sitting on it. A small chair stood next to it, without an occupant. I cautiously stepped in, sidestepping a rope the hung in the middle of the room, seemingly useless.

Suddenly, a hiss sounded behind me and the ground dropped beneath my feet—I wound my foot around the rope and gripped tight—and I looked down. A pit opened beneath me, full of giant spikes. Kroenen stepped out in front of me, and I grinned. "Not much of a welcome, is it?"

He didn't respond and I swung my foot, propelling me forward and away from the pit. The minute my feet were on solid ground, I dropped onto my hands and kicked up, feeling my feet connect with something. I flipped backwards and landed several feet away, ready for a counter-attack. Then my gaze settled on the mask that was lying on the ground, and my eyes wandered up to Kroenen's face.

I gasped.

* * *

Review!

_And thank you for all the reviews so far!!_

_Kit &_ Violet


	10. Chapter 10

_Okay, this is the last one, and I must say this was one of my favorite stories to write, and my first first-person.......at least on . _

Now go and read the second one!!!

_A certain someone makes a guest appearance in the end, so enjoy. And part of it is from Kroenen's POV._

_**Warnings: The usual**_

_**Disclaimers: We only the plot, Kaye, Adam, Mathias and his family, and Tubby. Oh, and the spy hoes! (But eclipse claims the name!)**_

_Bonjour. C'est Kaye et Krauss: Hello. This is Kaye and Krauss._

* * *

"What...what happened to your face?"

That was the first thing my mouth blurted out, but what I really wanted to ask was, "Where the hell did your face go?" Both of Kroenen's eyelids were gone, as well as his lips and his hair. I could see gears whirring in his chest, and whenever he moved his left arm, it moved with the preciseness of something mechanical.

Kroenen seemed almost _ashamed_. "It is a very long story."

* * *

I heard the bridge crumbling over the music, and sighed. That could only mean the Child was here; it was time to work. Standing, I hid in a corner of my lair, and waited.

But what was surprising was that the Child was so quiet. I had seen him fight before, and he was always loud; clunkering about and swearing. And there was that stench from the cigar, besides. Suddenly, however, a person stepped in, and I put my hand on the switch. But I realized it wasn't the Child—it was _Kaye_—and in my surprise, I flipped the switch.

Her reaction was instantaneous and fluid; as the pit opened she grabbed the rope and wrapped her foot around it, anchoring herself. I stepped out, and she grinned—still as beautiful as ever. "Not much of a welcome, is it?" she quipped.

Still shocked, I couldn't say anything, and Kaye went into action; swinging her foot out and propelling herself toward to the edge. When she reached the edge, she kicked up, catching me in the chin and knocking my mask off. _Oh nein._

Kaye flipped back and swung her tonfas forward, ready for my attack; but instead, my eyes were fixed on the mask that lay clattering on the floor—to far away for me to pick up. I heard Kaye gasp as her eyes settled on my face, and I felt so disgusted with myself, even though I knew it would happen.

"What...what happened to your face?"

I looked away. "It's a very long story." And instead of her attacking me like I supposed she would, she folded her arms over her chest. "I came here for you; I have all the time in the world."

I swallowed thickly. "Zis is vhat happened after you left. I used pain to make ze pain go avay; to become perfect. Zis is how I....coped."

She nodded, not scared, not disgusted, but interested. "Coped with what?"

"Vith you."

Her eyes narrowed—there was the anger and hate I was expecting. "Me?" she hissed, "My leaving was anything but my choice! You forced me into it! You lied to me, you tricked me, you sold me out, and you tried to have me killed! You hurt me!"

I had nothing to say back to this, and she knew it. "And I'm not the only one," she continued. "Does the name Mathias seem familiar to you? He died thirty-six years ago by your hand, you heartless bastard. And Trevor." Here she paused and took a deep breath, her shoulders shaking. "How _dare_ you? He wasn't in the least bit important to what you wanted, and you killed him." I opened my mouth to object, but Kaye cut me off. "Don't say it was Rasputin's orders; I've had enough of your lies."

And I knew she was right—Kaye was telling the truth, every word was exactly true. I finally looked up at her, and wished I didn't; the look in her eyes was anything but what I expected. They were empty.

"I had finally let go," she said in a flat, emotionless voice, but there were tears in her eyes, "I had finally let go of you, you bastard." Her hand reached up to the one red diamond that was still in her ear, and she took a deep breath. "I should tear this out, but I can't. It means too much. I thought I had let go of you, but I haven't. I still love you, and I hate you for it."

I swallowed, my throat closing. "Zen come back."

* * *

Kroenen's words shocked me back to the ground with an abrupt pull. My eyes widened of their own accord. "Come _back_? Come back to _what_, Kroenen? You chased me away; this is what you _wanted_. I almost killed you when I left, and every day of these sixty years I wish I had. I should have left you to die at Ragna Rok, and stopped you from become this-this monster that you are. You're no longer human—a metal spine, a clockwork hand and heart?" I paused and smiled wryly. "But then again, you never were human. Humans have _hearts_—even I've lived long enough to realize this." I glared at him. "Knowing all this—knowing how much I hate you—you still want me to come back?"

Kroenen sighed. "Yes, I do. I know everysing I did, and I regret it all. I don't know vhy I even—"

I shook my head. "Shut up, Kroenen. You know exactly why."

"Vell zen, I apologize for everysing I have done."

"Why apologize? To make yourself feel better? Your apologies mean nothing to me." Despite my attempts to keep calm, I was getting very angry. My hand flew out and hit him across the face, my palm stinging. "That was for Mathias."

Kroenen stepped back, and his mechanical hand flew to his face. "I suppose I deserve zat."

"You _suppose_?" I was taken aback. "You deserve much more than that, more than even I'm capable of. You sold your soul to Rasputin, and in turn, you sold it to Hell." I laughed, giddy with rage. "Just wait and see what happens when your usefulness runs out."

A spike of my power lashed out and Kroenen flinched. But then we both realized it hadn't hit him, and I spotted its victim—the mechanical bird that sang_ Symphony 29_.

Without a word, I turned and walked around the pit, sidestepping the remains of the bird. Just as I was about to disappear back into the corridor, I turned and told Kroenen, "You once said this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship." I paused. "Well this is the end."

* * *

I sat in the dark of my room, watching slim stripes of sun peek through my closed blinds and sighed. Closing my eyes and leaning back on my bed, I didn't respond as the door opened. I could sense Johann stick his head in the crack. "Kaye? Is alright if I come inside?"

I nodded, but kept my eyes closed. Johann crossed the room and I could hear his metal boots click against the wooden floor. The bed groaned as he sat down on the edge, and then the mattress dipped as he leaned back next to me and pulled his feet up on the sheets. A smile played on my lips. "Your boots had better not be dirty."

There was a faint hiss, and I opened my eyes to see that Johann had leaked out of his metal body and was gathering on the edge of my bed, his arms crossed, and a ghostly smile on his translucent face. I groaned. "You'd look so much like Kroenen if you had a face."

Johann frowned and his wraithlike hand patted my leg. "As a matter of fact, I do have a face—it's just a ghostly face. And you always tell me zat I look like him."

"Only because it's true."

"You need to stop sinking about him."

I glared. "Don't talk to me like I'm a lovesick teenager—I know I shouldn't." My hand reached up and began to play with my earring. "I just can't help it."

Johann climbed off my bed and gestured to the closed blinds, his ectoplasmic body glowing where the sun touched it, and flicked them open, giving me a brilliant view of the Eiffel Tower. I groaned at the light, and he frowned at me. "Tsk, tsk, Kaye! It is 2008! Four years have passed since zat! He is dead, and you should be moving on as vell." He paused. "Vell, Kroenen can't exactly move on, but you know vhat I meant."

"I have the rest of eternity to move on," I countered. "Rasputin died and took my life with him." I smirked. "The only good thing to come of this was the demon that came out of Rasputin ate Ilsa. What irony."

Suddenly, the telephone rang, and I sat up. "I'll get it."

"Vell, I should hope zat you vould, considering you're ze vone vith actual fingers."

I glared playfully. "Shut up." Putting the phone to my ear, I said, _"Bonjour. C'est Kaye et Krauss."_

The voice on the other end was male, American, and middle-aged. "Hello, is this the demon exterminators Kaye and Krauss?"

I rolled my eyes, and switched to English. "That's what I just said."

The voice on the other end sighed in relief. "Oh, good. My name is Tom Manning; I'm the Director of the BPRD. The—"

I sat up and gripped the phone with both hands. "The Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense, I know. What do you need?"

"My superiors here in America—"

"I know where the BPRD is, Mr. Manning."

The man sighed. "Yes well, my superiors have decided that the BPRD is in need of a new agent. Luckily, I was able to choose who that agent would be. Your dossier is very impressive and I—"

My eyes narrowed, both from the fact that the BPRD had a dossier on me and because Johann had swirled around the phone, attempting to listen in. "Since when does the BPRD have a dossier on me? I'm off the grid."

Manning sighed, apparently exasperated at my constant interruptions. "The late Professor Broom created the dossier—unfortunately, I don't know why. The point is, you have excellent credentials, and all of your previous employers have highly recommended you. The reason I was calling was to ask if you would like to join the Bureau."

I could hear Johann gasp behind me, and I told Manning, "Excuse me a moment." I put my hand over the phone and turned to Johann. "What do you think?"

Johann shrugged, and glanced at his mechanical body. "I sink it is a vonderful idea. A new year, new chances. And besides, I vould sink you vould vant to see Hellboy again."

"But I'm going to miss you!" I whined.

Johann arched a misty eyebrow. "Vell, I'll manage to join as vell—just vatch. In ze mean time, you should go and tell me vhat it's like." He grinned. "If it's horrible, I can alvays come and save you."

I smiled and put the phone back to my ear. "My answer is yes, Mr. Manning. When do I fly?"

Manning seemed relieved. "As soon as possible.....well, in four hours, actually. There will be an agent at the airport with tickets for you."

I hung up and saw that Johann was back in his mechanical suit, watching me. I turned at gave him a hug. "I'll see you soon." He nodded and patted me on the back, and then his hand lingered over the blood-red diamond in my ear. "And vhat about zis?"

I shrugged. "What about it?"

He nodded. "Zat's ze Kaye I know and love." I unhooked my earring, and then paused. "On second thought, maybe I'll keep it in."

"Vhat? Vhy?"

I smiled at Johann. "Just because it hurt doesn't mean I'm willing to forget. I thought I had made all of the mistakes....this is just a reminder to keep my eyes open. It was the end of my and Kroenen's...relationship, and I'm fine with that. This is my new beginning, and I'm going to enjoy it or die trying, damnit!"

Johann chuckled and nodded, and I turned, the earring glittered in the Parisian light. I smirked and picked up my tonfas and my satchel.

"Let's go see the hellchild."

* * *

REVIEW!!

_And I hope you enjoyed!!_

_Kit &_ Violet


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